.frz 


TALES  OE  A  TRAVELLER. 


» 1 1 

BY 


GEOFFREY  CRAYON,  GENT?. 

AUTHOR   OF   "THE   SKETCH   BOOK,"  « BRACEBRIDGE   HALL,"   "KNICKERBOCKER'S 
NEW- YORK,"    ETC. 


I  am  neither  your  minotaure,  nor  your  centaure,  nor  your  satyr,  nor  your  hyaena,  nor 
your  babion/but  your  meer  traveller,  believe  me. 

,-  t  BEN  JONSON. 


AUTHOR'S    REVISED  EDITION. 


COMPLETE   IN  ONE   VOLUME. 


NEW- YORK: 
GEORGE  P.  PUTNAM,  155  BROADWAY, 

And    142    Strand,   London. 

1849. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849,  by 
WASHINGTON  IRVING, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New-^rk. 


LEAVITT,  TROW  &  Co,,. 

Printers  and  Stereotypcrs,   • 
49  Ann-street,  N.  V. 


CONTENTS. 


PART   I. 

STRANGE   STORIES    BY    A    NERVOUS   GENTLEMAN. 

Page 

The  Great  Unknown,  .         •    . ,  • 15 

The  Hunting  Dinner,              '. 17 

The  Adventure  of  My  Uncle,      .                 23 

The  Adventure  of  My  Aunt,  .         .  .      *^  .....         .  38 

The  Bold  Dragoon,  or  the  Adventure  of  My  Grandfather,  .         .  44 

The  Adventure  of  the  German  Student,  .       ; . ':    .  ..         .         .  55 

The  Adventure  of  the  'Mysterious  Picture,  .         ......         .         .63 

The  Adventure  of  the /"Mysterious  Stranger,     ....         .  73 

The  Story  of  the  Young  Italian, 83 

PART  II. 

BUCKTHORNE    AND    HIS    FRIENDS. 

Literary  Life, 119 

A  Literary  Dinner, 122 

the  Club  of  Queer  Fellows, 126 

The  Poor  Devil  Author, 133 

Notoriety,    .         .         .         ... 157 

A  Practical  Philosopher,  .         .....         .         .         .  160 

Buckthorne,  or  the  Young  Man  of  Great  Expectations,       .         .  163 

Grave  Reflections  of  a  Disappointed  Man,       ....  227 

The  Booby  Squire, 233 

The  Strolling  Manager, 240 


284714 


CONTENTS. 
PART  III. 

THE    ITALIAN    BANDITTI. 

Page 

The  Inn  at  Terracina, 261 

The  Adventure  of  the  Little  Antiquary, 277 

The  Belated  Travellers, 288 

The  Adventure  of  the  Popkins  Family, 308 

The  Painter's  Adventure, 315 

The  Story  of  the  Bandit  Chieftain, 326 

The  Story  of  the  Young  Robber, 340 

The  Adventure  of  the  Englishman, 354 

PART  IV. 

THE    MONEY-DIGGERS. 

Hell-gate, *  .         .365 

Kidd  the  Pirate, 369 

The  Devil  and  Tom  Walker, '   .         .  376 

Wolfert  Webber,  or  Golden  Dreams, 393 

The  Adventure  of  the  Black  Fisherman, 420 


TO  THE  READER. 


WORTHY  AND  DEAR  READER  ! — Hast  thou  ever  been  way 
laid  in  the  midst  of  a  pleasant  tour  by  some  treacherous 
malady :  thy  heels  tripped  up,  and  thou  left  to  count  the 
tedious  minutes  as  they  passed,  in  the  solitude  of  an  inn 
chamber?  If  thou  hast,  thou  wilt  be  able  to  pity  me. 
Behold  me,  interrupted  in  the  course  of  my  journeying  up 
the  fair  banks  of  the  Rhine,  and  laid  up  by  indisposition  in 
this  old  frontier  town  of  Mentz.  I  have  worn  out  every 
source  of  amusement.  I  know  the  sound  of  every  clock 
that  strikes,  and  bell  that  rings,  in  the  place.  I  know  to 
a  second  when  to  listen  for  the  first  tap  of  the  Prussian 
drum,  as  it  summons  the  garrison  to  parade,  or  at  what 
hour  to  expect  the  distant  sound  of  the  Austrian  military 
band.  All  these  have  grown  wearisome  to  me ;  and  even 
the  well-known  step  of  my  doctor,  as  he  slowly  paces  the 
corridor,  with  healing  in  the  creak  of  his  shoes,  no  longer 
affords  an  agreeable  interruption  to  the  monotony  of  my 
apartment. 

For  a  time  I  attempted   to  beguile  the   weary  hours, 


viii  TO   THE   READER. 

by  studying  German  under  the  tuition  of  mine  host's 
pretty  little  daughter,  Katrine;  but  I  soon  found  even 
German  had  not  power  to  charm  a  languid  ear,  and  that 
the  conjugating  of  ich  Hebe  might  be  powerless,  however 
rosy  the  lips  which  uttered  it. 

I  tried  to  read,  but  my  mind  would  not  fix  itself.  I 
turned  over  volume  after  volume,  but  threw  them  by  with 
distaste ;  "  Well,  then,"  said  I  at  length,  in  despair,  "  if  I 
cannot  read  a  book,  I  will  write  one."  Never  was  there 
a  more  lucky  idea;  it  at  once  gave  me  occupation  and 
amusement.  The  wTiting  of  a  book  was  considered  in 
old  times  as  an  enterprise  of  toil  and  difficulty,  insomuch 
that  the  most  trifling  lucubration  was  denominated  a 
"  work,"  and  the  world  talked  with  awe  and  reverence  of 
"the  labors  of  the  learned."  These  matters  are  better 
understood  now-a-days. 

Thanks  to  the  improvements  in  all  kind  of  manufac 
tures,  the  art  of  book-making  has  been  made  familiar  to 
the  meanest  capacity.  Every  body  is  an  author.  The 
scribbling  of  a  quarto  is  the  mere  pastime  of  the  idle  ;  the 
young  gentleman  throws  off  his  brace  of  duodecimos  in 
the  intervals  of  the  sporting  season,  and  the  young  lady 
produces  her  set  of  volumes  with  the  same  facility  that 
her  great-grandmother  worked  a  set  of  chair-bottorns. 

The  idea  having  struck  me,  therefore,  to  write  a  book, 
the  reader  will  easily  perceive  that  the  execution  of  it  was 
no  difficult  matter.  I  rummaged  my  portfolio,  and  cast 
about,  in  my  recollection,  for  those  floating  materials 


TO  THE   READER.  ix 

which  a  man  naturally  collects  in  travelling ;  and  here  I 
have  arranged  them  in  this  little  work.. 

As  I  know  this  to  be  a  story-telling  and  a  story-reading 
age,  and  that  the  world  is  fond  of  being  taught  by  apo 
logue,  I  have  digested  the  instruction  I  would  convey  into 
a  number  of  tales.  They  may  not  possess  the  power  of 
amusement,  which  the  tales  told  by  many  of  my  contem 
poraries  possess  ;  but  then  I  value  myself  on  the  sound 
moral  which  each  of  them  contains.  This  may  not  be 
apparent  at  first,  but  the  reader  will  be  sure  to  find  it  out 
in  the  end.  I  am  for  curing  the  world  by  gentle  alteratives, 
not  by  violent  doses  ;  indeed,  the  patient  should  never  be 
conscious  that  he  is  taking  a  dose.  I  have  learnt  this 
much  from  my  experience  under  the  hands  of  the  worthy 
Hippocrates  of  Mentz. 

I  am  not,  therefore,  for  those  barefaced  tales  which 
carry  their  moral  on  the  surface,  staring  one  in  the  face ; 
they  are  enough  to  deter  the  squeamish  reader.  On  the 
contrary,  I  have  often  hid  my  moral  from  sight,  and  dis 
guised  it  as  much  as  possible  by  sweets  and  spices,  so  that 
while  the  simple  reader  is  listening  with  open  mouth  to  a 
ghost  or  a  love  story,  he  may  have  a  bolus  of  sound  mo 
rality  popped  down  his  throat,  and  be  never  the  wiser  for 
the  fraud. 

As  the  public  is  apt  to  be  curious  about  the  sources 
whence  an  author  draws  his  stories,  doubtless  that  it  may 
know  how  far  to  put  faith  in  them,  I  would  observe,  that 
the  Adventure  of  the  German  Student,  or  rather  the  latter 


x  TO   THE   READER. 

part  of  it,  is  founded  on  an  anecdote  related  to  me  as 
existing  somewhere  in  French ;  and,  indeed,  I  have  been 
told,  since  writing  it,  that  an  ingenious  tale  has  been 
founded  on  it  by  an  English  writer ;  but  I  have  never  met 
with  either  the  former  or  the  latter  in  print.  Some  of  the 
circumstances  in  the  Adventure  of  the  Mysterious  Picture, 
and  in  the  Story  of  the  Young  Italian,  are  vague  recollec 
tions  of  anecdotes  related  to  me  some  years  since  ;  but 
from  what  source  derived,  I  do  not  know.  The  Adventure 
of  the  Young  Painter  among  the  banditti  is  taken  almost 
entirely  from  an  authentic  narrative  in  manuscript. 

As  to  the  other  tales  contained  in  this  work,  and  indeed 
to  my  tales  generally,  I  can  make  but  one  observation ;  I 
am  an  old  traveller ;  I  have  read  somewhat,  heard  and 
seen  more,  and  dreamt  more  than  all.  My  brain  is  filled, 
therefore,  with  all  kinds  of  odds  and  ends.  In  travelling, 
these  heterogeneous  matters  have  become  shaken  up  in  my 
mind,  as  the  articles  are  apt  to  be  in  an  ill-packed  travelling 
trunk  ;  so  that  when  I  attempt  to  draw  forth  a  fact,  I  can 
not  determine  whether  I  have  read,  heard,  or  dreamt  it ; 
and  I  am  always  at  a  loss  to  know  how  much  to  believe  of 
my  own  stories. 

These  matters  being  premised,  fall  to,  worthy  reader, 
with  good  appetite  ;  and,  above  all,  with  good  humor,  to 
what  is  here  set  before  thee.  If  the  tales  I  have  furnished 
should  prove  to  be  bad,  they  will  at  least  be  found  short ; 
so  that  no  one  will  be  wearied  long  on  the  same  theme. 
"  Variety  is  charming,"  as  some  poet  observes. 


TO   THE   READER.  xi 

There  is  a  certain  relief  in  change,  even  though  it  be 
from  bad  to  worse !  As  I  have  often  found  in  travelling 
in  a  stage-coach,  that  it  is  often  a  comfort  to  shift  one's 
position,  and  be  bruised  in  a  new  place. 

Ever  thine, 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 

Dated  from  the  HOTEL  DE  DARMSTADT, 
ci-devant  HOTEL  DE  PARIS, 

MENTZ,  otherwise  called  MATENCE. 


PART  I. 
STRANGE    STORIES 

BY 

A  NERVOUS  GENTLEMAN. 


I'll  tell  you  more,  there  was  a  fish  taken, 
A  monstrous  fish,  with  a  sword  by's  side,  a  long  sword, 
A  pike  in's  neck,  and  a  gun  in's  nose,  a  huge  gun, 
And  letters  of  mart  in 's  mouth  from  the  Duke  of  Florence. 

Cleanthes. — This  is  a  monstrous  lie. 

Tony. —  I  do  confess  it. 

Do  you  think  I'd  tell  you  truths? 

FLETCHER'S  Wife  for  a  Month. 


THE  GREAT  UNKNOWN. 

THE  following  adventures  were  related  to  me  by  the  same  nerv 
ous  gentleman  who  told  me  the  romantic  tale  of  the  Stout  Gen 
tleman,  published  in  Bracebridge  Hall.  It  is  very  singular,  that 
although  I  expressly  stated  that  story  to  have  been  told  to  me, 
and  described  the  very  person  who  told  it,  still  it  has  been  re 
ceived  as  an  adventure  that  happened  to  myself.  Now  I  protest 
I  never  met  with  any  adventure  of  the  kind.  I  should  not  have 
grieved  at  this,  had  it  not  been  intimated  by  the  author  of  "Wa- 
verley,  in  an  introduction  to  his  novel  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak, 
that  he  was  himself  the  stout  gentleman  alluded  to.  I  have  ever 
since  been  importuned  by  questions  and  letters  from  gentlemen, 
and  particularly  from  ladies  without  number,  touching  what  I  had 
seen  of  the  Great  Unknown. 

Now  all  this  is  extremely  tantalizing.  It  is  like  being  con 
gratulated  on  the  high  prize  when  one  has  drawn  a  blank ;  for  I 
have  $&st  as  great  a  desire  as  any  one  of  the  public  to  penetrate 
the  mystery  of  that  very  singular  personage,  whose  voice  fills 
every  corner  of  the  world,  without  any  one  being  able  to  tell 
whence  it  comes. 

My  friend,  the  nervous  gentleman,  also,  who  is  a  man  of  very 
shy,  retired  habits,  complains  that  he  has  been  excessively  an 
noyed  in  consequence  of  its  getting  about  in  his  neighborhood  that 


16        ,'  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


he  is  the  fortunate  personage.  Insomuch,  that  he  has  become  a 
character  of  considerable  notoriety  in  two  or  three  country  towns, 
and  has  been  repeatedly  teased  to  exhibit  himself  at  blue-stocking 
parties,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  of  being  "  the  gentleman 
who  has  had  a  glimpse  of  the  author  of  Waverley." 

Indeed  the  poor  man  has  grown  ten  times  as  nervous  as  ever, 
since  he  has  discovered,  on  such  good  authority,  who  the  stout 
gentleman  was ;  and  will  never  forgive  himself  for  not  having 
made  a  more  resolute  effort  to  get  a  full  sight  of  him.  He  has 
anxiously  endeavored  to  call  up  a  recollection  of  what  he  saw  of 
that  portly  personage  ;  and  has  ever  since  kept  a  curious  eye  on 
all  gentlemen  of  more  than  ordinary  dimensions,  whom  he  has 
seen  getting  into  stage-coaches.  All  In  vain  !  The  features  he 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  seem  common  to  the  whole  race  of  stout 
gentlemen,  and  the  Great  Unknown  remains  as  great  an  unknown 
as  ever. 


Having  premised  these  circumstances,  I  will  now  let  the 
nervous  gentleman  proceed  with  his  stories. 


THE  HUNTING  DINNER. 

once  at  a  hunting  dinner,  given  by  a  worthy  fox-hunting 
old  Baronet,  who  kept  bachelor's  hall  in  jovial  style,  in  an  an 
cient  rook-haunted  family  mansion,  in  one  of  the  middle  coun 
ties.  He  had  been  a  devoted  admirer  of  the  fair  sex  in  his 
younger  days  ;  but,  having  travelled  much,  studied  the  sex  in  va 
rious  countries  with  distinguished  success,  and  returned  home 
profoundly  instructed,  as  he  supposed,  in  the  ways  of  woman,  and 
a  perfect  master  of  the  art  of  pleasing,  had  the  mortification  of 
being  jilted  by  a  little  boarding-school  girl,  who  was  scarcely 
versed  in  the  accidence  of  love. 

The  Baronet  was  completely  overcome  by  such  an  incredible 
defeat ;  retired  from  the  world  in  disgust ;  put  himself  under  the 
government  of  his  housekeeper ;  and  took  to  fox-hunting  like  a 
perfect  Nimrod.  Whatever  poets  may  say  to  the  contrary,  a 
man  will  grow  out  of  love  as  he  grows  old ;  and  a  pack  of  fox 
hounds  may  chase  out  of  his  heart  even  the  memory  of  a  board 
ing-school  goddess.  The  Baronet  was,  when  I  saw  him,  as  merry 
and  mellow  an  old  bachelor  as  ever  followed  a  hound ;  and  the 
love  he  had  once  felt  for  one  woman  had  spread  itself  over  the 
whole  sex ;  so  that  there  was  not  a  pretty  face  in  the  whole  coun 
try  round  but  came  in  for  a  share. 


18  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


The  dinner  was  prolonged  till  a  late  hour;  for  our  host 
having  no  ladies  in  his  household  to  summon  us  to  the  draw 
ing-room,  the  bottle  maintained  its  true  bachelor  sway,  unri 
valled  by  its  potent  enemy  the  tea-kettle.  The  old  hall  in 
which  we  dined  echoed  to  bursts  of  robustious  fox-hunting  mer 
riment,  that  made  the  ancient  antlers  shake  on  the  walls.  By 
degrees,  however,  the  wine  and  the  wassail  of  mine  host  began 
to  operate  upon  bodies  already  a  little  jaded  by  the  chase.  The 
choice  spirits  which  flashed  up  at  the  beginning  of  the  dinner, 
sparkled  for  a  time,  then  gradually  went  out  one  after  another,  or 
only  emitted  now  and  then  a  faint  gleam  from  the  socket.  Some 
of  the  briskest  talkers,  who  had  given  tongue  so  bravely  at  the 
first  burst,  fell  fast  asleep  ;  and  none  kept  on  their  way  but  cer 
tain  of  those  long-winded  prosers,  who,  like  short-legged  hounds, 
worry  on  unnoticed  at  the  bottom  of  conversation,  but  are  sure 
to  be  in  at  the  death.  Even  these  at  length  subsided  into  silence  ; 
and  scarcely  any  thing  was  heard  but  the  nasal  communications 
of  two  or  three  veteran  masticators,  who  having  been  silent  while 
awake,  were  indemnifying  the  company  in  their  sleep. 

At  length  the  announcement  of  tea  and  coffee  in  the  cedar- 
parlor  roused  all  hands  from  this  temporary  torpor.  Every  one 
awoke  marvellously  renovated,  and  while  sipping  the  refreshing 
beverage  out  of  the  Baronet's  old-fashioned  hereditary  china,  be 
gan  to  think  of  departing  for  their  several  homes.  But  here  a 
sudden  difficulty  arose.  .  While  we  had  been  prolonging  our  re 
past,  a  heavy  winter  storm  had  set  in,  with  snow,  rain,  and  sleet, 
driven  by  such  bitter  blasts  of  wind,  that  they  threatened  to  pene 
trate  to  the  very  bone. 

"It's  all  in  vain,"  said  our  hospitable  host,  "  to  think  of  put 
ting  one's  head  out  of  doors  in  such  weather.  So,  gentlemen,  I 


THE   HUNTING   DINNER.  19 


hold  you  my  guests  for  this  night  at  least,  and  will  have  your 
quarters  prepared  accordingly." 

The  unruly  weather,  which  became  more  and  more  tempestu 
ous,  rendered  the  hospitable  suggestion  unanswerable.  The  only 
question  was,  whether  such  an  unexpected  accession  of  company 
to  an  already  crowded  house  would  not  put  the  housekeeper  to 
her  trumps  to  accommodate  them. 

"  Pshaw,"  cried  mine  host,  "  did  you  ever  know  a  bachelor's 
hall  that  was  not  elastic,  and  able  to  accommodate  twice  as  many 
as  it  could  hold  ?"  So,  out  of  a  good-humored  pique,  the  house 
keeper  was  summoned  to  a  consultation  before  us  all.  The  old 
lady  appeared  in  her  gala  suit  of  faded  brocade,  which  rustled 
with  flurry  and  agitation  ;  for,  in  spite  of  our  host's  bravado, 
she  was  a  little  perplexed.  But  in  a  bachelor's  house,  and  with 
bachelor  guests,  these  matters  are  readily  managed.  There  is 
no  lady  of  the  house  to  stand  upon  squeamish  points  about  lodg 
ing  gentlemen  in  odd  holes  and  corners,  and  exposing  the  shabby 
parts  of  the  establishment.  A  bachelor's  housekeeper  is  used  to 
shifts  and  emergencies ;  so,  after  much  worrying  to  and  fro,  and 
divers  consultations  about  the  red-room,  and  the  blue-room,  and 
the  chintz-room,  and  the  damask-room,  and  the  little  room  with 
the  bow-window,  the  matter  was  finally  arranged. 

When  all  this  was  done,  we  were  once  more  summoned  to  the 
standing  rural  amusement  of  eating.  The  time  that  had  been  con 
sumed  in  dozing  after  dinner,  and  in  the  refreshment  and  consul 
tation  of  the  cedar-parlor,  was  sufficient,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
rosy-faced  butler,  to  engender  a  reasonable  appetite  for  supper. 
A  slight  repast  had,  therefore,  been  tricked  up  from  the  residue 
of  dinner,  consisting  of  a  cold  sirloin  of  beef,  hashed  venison,  a 
devilled  leg  of  a  turkey  or  so,  and  a  few  other  of  those  light 


20  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


articles  taken  by  country  gentlemen  to  insure  sound  sleep  and 
heavy  snoring. 

The  nap  after  dinner  had  brightened  up  every  one's  wit ;  and 
a  great  deal  of  excellent  humor  was  expended  upon  the  perplex 
ities  of  mine  host  and  his  housekeeper,  by  certain  married 
gentlemen  of  the  company,  who  considered  themselves  privileged 
in  joking  with  a  bachelor's  establishment.  From  this  the  banter 
turned  as  to  what  quarters  each  would  find,  on  being  thus  sud 
denly  billeted  in  so  antiquated  a  mansion. 

"  By  my  soul."  said  an  Irish  captain  of  dragoons,  one  of  the 
most  merry  and  boisterous  of  the  party,  "  by  my  soul  but  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  some  of  those  good-looking  gentlefolks  that 
hang  along  the  walls  should  walk  about  the  rooms  of  this  stormy 
night ;  or  if  I  should  find  the  ghost  of  one  of  those  long-waisted 
ladies  turning  into  my  bed  in  mistake  for  her  grave  in  the  church 
yard." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts,  then  ?"  said  a  thin  hatchet-faced 
gentleman,  with  projecting  eyes  like  a  lobster. 

I  had  remarked  this  last  personage  during  dinner  time  for 
one  of  those  incessant  questioners,  who  have  a  craving,  unhealthy 
appetite  in  conversation.  He  never  seemed  satisfied  with  the 
whole  of  a  story ;  never  laughed  when  others  laughed ;  but 
always  put  the  joke  to  the  question.  He  never  could  enjoy  the 
kernel  of  the  nut,  but  pestered  himself  to  get  more  out  of  the 
shell.  "  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts,  then  ?"  said  the  inquisitive 
gentleman. 

"  Faith,  but  I  do,"  replied  the  jovial  Irishman.  "  I  was 
brought  up  in  the  fear  and  belief  of  them.  We  had  a  Benshee 
in  our  own  family,  honey." 

"  A  Benshee,  and  what's  that  ?"  cried  the  questioner. 


THE  HUNTING  DINNER.  21 


"  Why,  an  old  lady  ghost  that  tends  upon  your  real  Milesian 
families,  and  waits  at  their  window  to  let  them  know  when  some 
of  them  are  to  die." 

"  A  mighty  pleasant  piece  of  information  !"  cried  an  elderly 
gentleman  with  a  knowing  look,  and  with  a  flexible  nose,  to 
which  he  could  give  a  whimsical  twist  when  he  wished  to  be 
waggish. 

"  By  my  soul,  but  I'd  have  you  to  know  it's  a  piece  of  dis 
tinction  to  be  waited  on  by  a  Benshee.  It's  a  proof  that  one  has 
pure  blood  in  one's  veins.  But  i'faith,  now  we  are  talking  of 
ghosts,  there  never  was  a  house  or  a  night  better  fitted  than  the 
present  for  a  ghost  adventure.  Pray,  Sir  John,  haven't  you  such 
a  thing  as  a  haunted  chamber  to  put  a  guest  in  ?" 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  Baronet,  smiling,  "  I  might  accommodate 
you  even  on  that  point." 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  it  of  all  things,  my  jewel.  Some  dark 
oaken  room,  with  ugly,  wobegone  portraits,  that  stare  dismally  at 
one ;  and  about  which  the  housekeeper  has  a  power  of  delightful 
stories  of  love  and  murder.  And  then  a  dim  lamp,  a  table  with 
a  rusty  sword  across  it,  and  a  spectre  all  in  white,  to  draw  aside 
one's  curtains  at  midnight  — " 

"  In  truth,"  said  an  old  gentleman  at  one  end  of  the  table, 
"  you  put  me  in  mind  of  an  anecdote — " 

"  Oh,  a  ghost  story !  a  ghost  story !"  was  vociferated  round 
the  board,  every  one  edging  his  chair  a  little  nearer. 

The  attention  of  the  whole  company  was  now  turned  upon  the 
speaker.  He  was  an  old  gentleman,  one  side  of  whose  face  was 
no  match  for  the  other.  The  eyelid  drooped  and  hung  down  like 
an  unhinged  window-shutter.  Indeed,  the  whole  side  of  his  head 
was  dilapidated,  and  seemed  like  the  wing  of  a  house  shut  up 


22  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


and  haunted.  I'll  warrant  that  side  was  well  stuffed  with  ghost 
stories. 

There  was  a  universal  demand  for  the  tale. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  it's  a  mere  anecdote,  and  a 
very  common-place  one  ;  but  such  as  it  is  you  shall  have  it.  It 
is  a  story  that  I  once  heard  my  uncle  tell  as  having  happened 
to  himself.  He  was  a  man  very  apt  to  meet  with  strange  adven 
tures.  I  have  heard  him  tell  of  others  much  more  singular." 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  was  your  uncle  ?"  said  the  questioning 
gentleman. 

"  Why,  he  was  rather  a  dry,  shrewd  kind  of  body ;  a  great 
traveller,  and  fond  of  telling  his  adventures." 

"  Pray,  how  old  might  he  have  been  when  that  happened." 

"  When  what  happened  ?"  cried  the  gentleman  with  the  flexi 
ble  nose,  impatiently.  "  Egad,  you  have  not  given  any  thing  a 
chance  to  happen.  Come,  never  mind  our  uncle's  age ;  let  us 
have  his  adventures." 

The  inquisitive  gentleman  being  for  the  moment  silenced,  the 
old  gentleman  with  the  haunted  head  proceeded. 


THE  ADYENTURE  OP  MY  UNCLE. 

MANY  years  since,  some  time  before  the  French  Revolution,  my 
uncle  passed  several  months  at  Paris.  The  English  and  French 
were  on  better  terms  in  those  days  than  at  present,  and  mingled 
cordially  in  society.  The  English  went  abroad  to  spend  money 
then,  and  the  French  were  always  ready  to  help  them :  they  go 
abroad  to  save  money  at  present,  and  that  they  can  do  without 
French  assistance.  Perhaps  the  travelling  English  were  fewer 
and  choicer  than  at  present,  when  the  whole  nation  has  broke 
loose  and  inundated  the  continent.  At  any  rate,  they  circulated 
more  readily  and  currently  in  foreign  society,  and  my  uncle,  dur 
ing  his  residence  in  Paris,  made  many  very  intimate  acquaint 
ances  among  the  French  noblesse. 

Some  time  afterwards,  he  was  making  a  journey  in  the  winter 
time  in  that  part  of  Normandy  called  the  Pays  de  Caux,  when, 
as  evening  was  closing  in,  he  perceived  the  turrets  of  an  ancient 
chateau  rising  out  of  the  trees  of  its  walled  park ;  each  turret 
with  its  high  conical  roof  of  gray  slate,  like  a  candle  with  an 
extinguisher  on  it. 

"  To  whom  does  that  chateau  belong,  friend  ?"  cried  my  uncle 
to  a  meagre  but  fiery  postilion,  who,  with  tremendous  jack-boots 
and  cocked  hat,  was  floundering  on  before  him. 

"  To  Monseigneur  the  Marquis  de ,"  said  the  postilion, 


TALES   OF   A  TRAVELLER. 


touching  his  hat,  partly  out  of  respect  to  my  uncle,  and  partly  out 
of  reverence  to  the  noble  name  pronounced. 

My  uncle  recollected  the  Marquis  for  a  particular  friend  in 
Paris,  who  had  often  expressed  a  wish  to  see  him  at  his  paternal 
chateau.  My  uncle  was  an  old  traveller,  one  who  knew  well  how 
to  turn  things  to  account.  He  revolved  for  a  few  moments  in 
his  mind  how  agreeable  it  would  be  to  his  friend  the  Marquis  to 
be  surprised  in  this  sociable  way  by  a  pop  visit ;  and  how  much 
more  agreeable  to  himself  to  get  into  snug  quarters  in  a  chateau, 
and  have  a  relish  of  the  Marquis's  well-known  kitchen,  and  a 
smack  of  his  superior  Champagne  and  Burgundy,  rather  than  put 
up  with  the  miserable  lodgment  and  miserable  fare  of  a  provincial 
inn.  In  a  few  minutes,  therefore,  the  meagre  postilion  was 
cracking  his  whip  like  a  very  devil,  or  like  a  true  Frenchman,  up 
the  long  straight  avenue  that  led  to  the  chateau. 

You  have  no  doubt  all  seen  French  chateaus,  as  every  body 
travels  in  France  now-a-days.  This  was  one  of  the  oldest; 
standing  naked  and  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  desert  of  gravel  walks 
and  cold  stone  terraces ;  with  a  cold-looking  formal  garden,  cut 
into  angles  and  rhomboids  ;  and  a  cold  leafless  park,  divided  geo 
metrically  by  straight  alleys ;  and  two  or  three  cold-looking  nose 
less  statues ;  and  fountains  spouting  cold  water  enough  to  make 
one's  teeth  chatter.  At  least  such  was  the  feeling  they  imparted 
on  the  wintry  day  of  my  uncle's  visit ;  though,  in  hot  summer 
weather,  I'll  warrant  there  was  glare  enough  to  scorch  one's  eyes 
out. 

The  smacking  of  the  postilion's  whip,  which  grew  more  and 
more  intense  the  nearer  they  approached,  frightened  a  flight  of 
pigeons  out  of  a  dove-cot,  and  rooks  out  of  the  roofs,  and  finally 
a  crew  of  servants  out  of  the  chateau,  with  the  Marquis  at  their 


THE  ADVENTURE   OF   MY  UNCLE.  25 


head.  He  was  enchanted  to  see  my  uncle,  for  his  chateau,  like 
the  house  of  our  worthy  host,  had  not  many  more  guests  at  the 
time  than  it  could  accommodate.  So  he  kissed  my  uncle  on  each 
cheek,  after  the  French  fashion,  and  ushered  him  into  the  castle. 

The  Marquis  did  the  honors  of  the  house  with  the  urbanity 
of  his  country.  In  fact,  he  was  proud  of  his  old  family  chateau^ 
for  part  of  it  was  extremely  old.  There  was  a  tower  and  chapel 
which  had  been  built  almost  before  the  memory  of  man ;  but  the 
rest  was  more  modern,  the  castle  having  been  nearly  demolished 
during  the  wars  of  the  league.  The  Marquis  dwelt  upon  this 
event  with  great  satisfaction,  and  seemed  really  to  entertain  a 
grateful  feeling  towards  Henry  the  Fourth,  for  having  thought 
his  paternal  mansion  worth  battering  down.  He  had  many  sto 
ries  to  tell  of  the  prowess  of  his  ancestors ;  and'several  skull-caps, 
helmets,  and  cross-bows,  and  divers  huge  boots,  and  buff  jerkins, 
to  show,  which  had  been  worn  by  •  leaguers.  Above  all,  there 
was  a  two-handled  sword,  which  he  could  hardly  wield,  but  which 
he  displayed,  as  a  proof  that  there  had  been  giants  in  his  family. 

In  truth,  he  was  but  a  small  descendant  from  such  great  war 
riors.  When  you  looked  at  their  bluff  visages  and  brawny  limbs, 
as  depicted  in  their  portraits,  and  then  at  the  little  Marquis,  with 
his  spindle  shanks,  and  his  sallow  lantern  visage,  flanked  with  a 
pair  of  powdered  ear-locks,  or  ailes  de  pigeon,  that  seemed  ready 
to  fly  away  with  it,  you  could  hardly  believe  him  to  be  of  the 
same  race.  But  when  you  looked  at  the  eyes  that  sparkled  out 
like  a  beetle's  from  each  side  of  his  hooked  nose,  you  saw  at  once 
that  he  inherited  all  the  fiery  spirit  of  his  forefathers.  In  fact, 
a  Frenchman's  spirit  never  exhales,  however  his  body  may 
dwindle.  It  rather  rarefies,  and  grows  more  inflammable,  as  the 
earthy  particles  diminish ;  and  I  have  seen  valor  enough  in  a  lit- 

2 


26  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


tie  fiery-hearted  French  dwarf  to  have  furnished  out  a  tolerable 
giant. 

When  once  the  Marquis,  as  was  his  wont,  put  on  one  of  the 
old  helmets  stuck  up  in  his  hall,  though  his  head  no  more  filled  it 
than  a  dry  pea  its  peascod,  yet  his  eyes  flashed  from  the  bottom 
of  the  iron  cavern  with  the  brilliancy  of  carbuncles  ;  and  when  he 
d  the  ponderous  two-handled  sword  of  his  ancestors,  you 
would  have  thought  you  saw  the  doughty  little  David  wielding 
the  sword  of  Goliath,  which  was  unto  him  like  a  weaver's  beam. 
However,  gentlemen,  I  am  dwelling  too  long  on  this  descrip 
tion  of  the  Marquis  and  his  chateau,  but  you  must  excuse  me ; 
he  was  an  old  friend  of  my  uncle  ;  and  whenever  my  uncle  told 
the  story,  he  was  always  fond  of  talking  a  great  deal  about  his 
host. — Poor  little  Marquis !  He  was  one  of  that  handful  of  gal 
lant  courtiers  who  made  such  a  devoted  but  hopeless  stand  in  the 
cause  of  their  sovereign,  ir  e  chateau  of  the  Tuileries,  against 
the  irruption  of  the  mob  on  the  sad  tenth  of  August.  He  dis 
played  the  valor  of  a  preux  French  chevalier  to  the  last ;  nour 
ishing  feebly  his  little  court  sword  with  a  §a-ga  I  in  face  of  a 
whole  legion  of  sans  culottes  ;  but  was  pinned  to  the  wall  like  a 
butterfly,  by  the  pike  of  a  poissarde,  and  his  heroic  soul  was 
borne  up  to  heaven  on  his  ailes  de  pigeon. 

But  all  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  story.  To  the  point 
then.  When  the  hour  arrived  for  retiring  for  the  night,  my  uncle 
was  shown  to  his  room  in  a  venerable  old  tower.  It  was  the  old 
est  part  of  the  chateau,  and  had  in  ancient  times  been  tlie  donjon 
or  strong-hold ;  of  course  the  chamber  was  none  of  the  best.  The 
Marquis  had  put  him  there,  however,  because  he  knew  him  to  be 
a  traveller  of  taste,  and  fond  of  antiquities  ;  and  also  because  the 
better  apartments  were  already  occupied.  Indeed,  he  perfectly 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  MY  UNCLE.  2? 


reconciled  my  uncle  to  his  quarters  by  mentioning  the  great  per 
sonages  who  had  once  inhabited  them,  all  of  whom  were,  in  some 
way  or  other,  connected  with  the  family.  If  you  would  take  his 
word  for  it,  John  Baliol,  or  as  he  called  him,  Jean  de  Bailleul, 
had  died  of  chagrin  in  this  very  chamber,  on  hearing  of  the  suc 
cess  of  his  rival,  Robert  the  Bruce,  at  the  battle  of  Bannockburn. 
And  when  he  added  that  the  Duke  de  Guise  had  slept  in  it,  my' 
uncle  was  fain  to  felicitate  himself  on  being  honored  with  such 
distinguished  quarters. 

The  night  was  shrewd  and  windy,  and  the  chamber  none  of 
the  warmest.  An  old  long-faced,  long-bodied  servant,  in  quaint 
livery,  who  attended  upon  my  uncle,  threw  down  an  armful  of 
wood  beside  the  fireplace,  gave  a  queer  look  about  the  room,  and 
then  wished  him  bon  repos  with  a  grimace  and  a  shrug  that  would 
have  been  suspicious  from  any  other  than  an  old  French  servant. 

The  chamber  had  indeed  a  wild  crazy  look,  enough  to  strike 
any  one  who  had  read  romances  with  apprehension  and  fore 
boding.  The  windows  were  high  and  narrow,  and  had  once  been 
loop-holes,  but  had  been  rudely  enlarged,  as  well  as  the  extreme 
thickness  of  the  walls  would  permit ;  and  the  ill-fitted  casements 
rattled  to  every  breeze.  You  would  have  thought,  on  a  windy 
night,  some  of  the  old  leaguers  were  tramping  and  clanking  about 

the  apartment  in  their  huge  boots  and  rattling  spurs.     A  door  V 

\ 
which  stood  ajar,  and,  like  a  true  French  door,  would  stand  ajar 

in  spite  of  every  reason  and  effort  to  the  contrary,  opened  upon  a 
long  dark  corridor,  that  led  the  Lord  knows  whither,  and  seemed 
just  made  for  ghosts  to  air  themselves  in,  when  they  turned  out 
of  their  graves  at  midnight.  The  wind  would  spring  up  into  a 
hoarse  murmur  through  this  passage,  and  creak  the  door  to  and 
fro,  as  if  some  dubious  ghost  were  balancing  in  its  mind  whether 


S8  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


to  come  in  or  not.  In  a  word,  it  was  precisely  the  kind  of  com 
fortless  apartment  that  a  ghost,  if  ghost  there  were  in  the  chateau, 
would  single  out  for  its  favorite  lounge. 

My  uncle,  however,  though  a  man  accustomed  to  meet  with 
strange  adventures,  apprehended  none  at  the  time.  He  made 
several  attempts  to  shut  the  door,  but  in  vain.  Not  that  he  appre 
hended  any  thing,  for  he  was  too  old  a  traveller  to  be  daunted  by 
a  wild-looking  apartment ;  but  the  night,  as  I  have  said,  was  cold 
and  gusty,  and  the  wind  howled  about  the  old  turret  pretty  mnch 
as  it  does  round  this  old  mansion  at  this  moment ;  and  the  breeze 
from  the  long  dark  corridor  came  in  as  damp  and  chilly  as  if  from 
a  dungeon.  My  uncle,  therefore,  since  he  could  not  close  the 
door,  threw  a  quantity  of  wood  on  the  fire,  which  soon  sent  up  a 
flame  in  the  great  wide-mouthed  chimney  that  illumined  the  whole 
ichamber;  and  made  the  shadow  of  the  tongs  on  the  opposite 
wall  look  like  a  long-legged  giant.  My  uncle  now  clambered  on 
the  top  of  the  half  score  of  mattresses  which  form  a  French  bed, 
and  which  stood  in  a  deep  recess ;  then  tucking  himself  snugly 
in,  and  burying  himself  up  to  the  chin  in  the  bed-clothes,  he  lay 
looking  at  the  fire,  and  listening  to  the  wind,  and  thinking  how 
knowingly  he  had  come  over  his  friend  the  Marquis  for  a  night's 
lodging — and  so  he  fell  asleep. 

He  had  not  taken  above  half  of  his  first  nap  when  he  was 
awakened  by  the  clock  of  the  chateau,  in  the  turret  over  his 
chamber,  which  struck  midnight.  It  was  just  such  an  old  clock 
as  ghosts  are  fond  of.  It  had  a  deep,  dismal  tone,  and  struck  so 
slowly  and  tediously  that  my  uncle  thought  it  would  never  have 
done.  He  counted  and  counted  till  he  was  confident  he  counted 
thirteen,  and  then  it  stopped. 

The  fire  had  burnt  low,  and  the  blaze  of  the  last  fagot  was 


THE  ADVENTURE   OF   MY  UNCLE.  29 


almost  expiring,  burning  in  small  blue  flames,  which  now  and 
then  lengthened  up  into  little  white  gleams.  My  uncle  lay  with 
his  eyes  half  closed,  and  his  nightcap  drawn  almost  down  to  his 
nose.  His  fancy  was  already  wandering,  and  began  to  mingle  up 
the  present  scene  with  the  crater  of  Vesuvius,  the  French  Opera, 
the  Coliseum  at  Rome,  Dolly's  chop-house  in  London,  and  all  the 
farrago  of  noted  places  with  which  the  brain  of  a  traveller  is 
crammed  : — in  a  word,  he  was  just  falling  asleep. 

Suddenly  he  was  roused  by  the  sound  of  footsteps,  slowly 
pacing  along  the  corridor.  My  uncle,  as  I  have  often  heard  him 
say  himself,  was  a  man  not  easily  frightened.  So  he  lay  quiet,  sup 
posing  this  some  other  guest,  or  some  servant  on  his  way  to  bed. 
The  footsteps,  however,  approached  the  door ;  the  door  gently 
opened ;  whether  of  its  own  accord,  or  whether  pushed  open,  my  un 
cle  could  not  distinguish  :  a  figure  all  in  white  glided  in.  It  was 
a  female,  tall  and  stately,  and  of  a  commanding  air.  Her  dress 
was  of  an  ancient  fashion,  ample  in  volume,  and  sweeping  the  floor. 
She  walked  up  to  the  fireplace,  without  regarding  my  uncle,  who 
raised  his  nightcap  with  one  hand,  and  stared  earnestly  at  her. 
She  remained  for  some  time  standing  by  the  fire,  which,  flashing 
up  at  intervals,  cast  blue  and  white  gleams  of  light,  that  enabled 
my  uncle  to  remark  her  appearance  minutely. 

Her  face  was  ghastly  pale,  and  perhaps  rendered  still  more  so 
by  the  bluish  light  of  the  fire.  It  possessed  beauty,  but  its  beauty 
was  saddened  by  care  and  anxiety.  There  was  the  look  of  one 
accustomed  to  trouble,  but  of  one  whom  trouble  could  not  cast 
down  nor  subdue ;  for  there  was  still  the  predominating  air  of 
proud  unconquerable  resolution.  Such  at  least  was  the  opinion 
formed  by  my  uncle,  and  he  considered  himself  a  great  physiog 
nomist. 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


The  figure  remained,  as  I  said,  for  some  time  by  the  fire,  put 
ting  out  first  one  hand,  then  the  other ;  then  each  foot  alternately, 
as  if  warming  itself ;  for  your  ghosts,  if  ghost  it  really  was,  are 
apt  to  be  cold.  My  uncle,  furthermore,  remarked  that  it  wore 
high-heeled  shoes,  after  an  ancient  fashion,  with  paste  or  diamond 
buckles,  that  sparkled  as  though  they  were  alive.  At  length  the 
figure  turned  gently  round,  casting  a  glassy  look  about  the  apart 
ment,  which,  as  it  passed  over  my  uncle,  made  his  blood  run  cold, 
and  chilled  the  very  marrow  in  his  bones.  It  then  stretched  its 
arms  towards  heaven,  clasped  its  hands,  and  wringing  them  in  a 
supplicating  manner,  glided  slowly  out  of  the  room. 

My  uncle  lay  for  some  time  meditating  on  this  visitation,  for 
(as  he  remarked  when  he  told  me  the  story)  though  a  man  of 
firmness,  he  was  also  a  man  of  reflection,  and  did  not  reject  a 
thing  because  it  was  out  of  the  regular  course  of  events.  How 
ever,  being,  as  I  have  before  said,  a  great  traveller,  and  accus 
tomed  to  strange  adventures,  he  drew  his  nightcap  resolutely  over 
his  eyes,  turned  his  back  to  the  door,  hoisted  the  bed-clothes  high 
over  his  shoulders,  and  gradually  fell  asleep. 

How  long  he  slept  he  could  not  say,  when  he  was  awakened 
by  the  voice  of  some  one  at  his  bed-side.  He  turned  round,  and 
beheld  the  old  French  servant,  with  his  ear-locks  in  tight  buckles 
on  each  side  of  a  long  lantern  face,  on  which  habit  had  deeply 
wrinkled  an  everlasting  smile.  He  made  a  thousand  grimaces, 
and  asked  a  thousand  pardons  for  disturbing  Monsieur,  but  the 
morning  was  considerably  advanced.  While  my  uncle  was  dress 
ing,  he  called  vaguely  to  mind  the  visitor  of  the  preceding  night. 
He  asked  the  ancient  domestic  what  lady  was  in  the  habit  of 
rambling  about  this  part  of  the  chateau  at  night.  The  old  valet 
shrugged  his  shoulders  as  high  as  his  head,  laid  one  hand  on  his 


-THE   ADVENTURE   OF  MY  UNCLE.  31 


bosom,  threw  open  the  other  with  every  finger  extended,  made  a 
most  whimsical  grimace  which  he  meant  to  be  complimentary, 
and  replied,  that  it  was  not  for  him  to  know  any  thing  of  les 
bonnes  fortunes  of  Monsieur. 

My  uncle  saw  there  was  nothing  satisfactory  to  be  learnt  in 
this  quarter. — After  breakfast,  he  was  walking  with  the  Marquis 
through  the  modern  apartments  of  the  chateau,  sliding  over  the 
well-waxed  floors  of  silken  saloons,  amidst  furniture  rich  in  gild 
ing  and  brocade,  until  they  came  to  a  long  picture-gallery,  con 
taining  many  portraits,  some  in  oil  and  some  in  chalks. 

Here  was  an  ample  field  for  the  eloquence  of  his  host,  who 
had  all  the  pride  of  a  nobleman  of  the  ancien  regime.  There 
was  not  a  grand  name  in  Normandy,  and  hardly  one  in  France, 
which  was  not,  in  some  way  or  other,  connected  with  his  house. 
My  uncle  stood  listening  with  inward  impatience,  resting  some 
times  on  one  leg,  sometimes  on  the  other,  as  the  little  Marquis 
descanted,  with  his  usual  fire  and  vivacity,  on  the  achievements 
of  his  ancestors,  whose  portraits  hung  along  the  wall ;  from  the 
martial  deeds  of  the  stern  warriors  in  steel,  to  the  gallantries  and 
intrigues  of  the  blue-eyed  gentlemen,  with  fair  smiling  faces,  pow 
dered  ear-locks,  laced  ruffles,  and  pink  and  blue  silk  coats  and 
breeches ; — not  forgetting  the  conquests  of  the  lovely  shepherd 
esses,  with  hooped  petticoats  and  waists  no  thicker  than  an  hour 
glass,  who  appeared  ruling  over  their  sheep  and  their  swains,  with 
dainty  crooks  decorated  with  fluttering  ribands. 

In  the  midst  of  his  friend's  discourse,  my  uncle  was  startled 
on  beholding  a  full-length  portrait,  the  very  counterpart  of  his 
visitor  of  the  preceding  night. 

"  Methinks,"  said  he,  pointing  to  it,  "  I  have  seen  the  original 
of  this  portrait." 


TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


"  Pardonnez  moi,"  replied  the  Marquis  politely,  "  that  can 
iiardly  be,  as  the  lady  has  been  dead  more  than  a  hundred  years. 
That  was  the  beautiful  Duchess  de  Longueville,  who  figured  during 
the  minority  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth." 

"  And  was  there  any  thing  remarkable  in  her  history  ?" 

Never  was  question  more  unlucky.  The  little  Marquis  im 
mediately  threw  himself  into  the  attitude  of  a  man  about  to  tell 
a  long  story.  In  fact,  my  uncle  had  pulled  upon  himself  the 
whole  history  of  the  civil  war  of  the  Fronde,  in  which  the  beautiful 
Duchess  had  played  so  distinguished  a  part.  Turenne,  Colignir 
Mazarine,  were  called  up  from  their  graves  to  grace  his  narration  ; 
nor  were  the  affairs  of  the  Barricadoes,  nor  the  chivalry  of  the 
Port  Cocheres  forgotten.  My  uncle  began  to  wish  himself  a 
thousand  leagues  off  from  the  Marquis  and  his  merciless  memory, 
when  suddenly  the  little  man's  recollections  took  a  more  interest 
ing  turn.  He  was  relating  the  imprisonment  of  the  Duke  de 
Longueville  with  the  Princes  Conde  and  Conti  in  the  chateau  of 
Vincennes,  and  the  ineffectual  efforts  of  the  Duchess  to  rouse  the 
sturdy  Normans  to  their  rescue.  He  had  come  to  that  park 
where  she  was  invested  by  the  royal  forces  in  the  Castle  of 
Dieppe. 

"  The  spirit  of  the  Duchess,"  proceeded  the  Marquis,  "  rose 
from  her  trials.  It  was  astonishing  to  see  so  delicate  and  beau 
tiful  a  being  buffet  so  resolutely  with  hardships.  She  determined 
on  a  desperate  means  of  escape.  You  may  have  seen  the  cha 
teau  in  which  she  was  mewed  up ;  an  old  ragged  wart  of  an  edi 
fice,  standing  on  the  knuckle  of  a  hill,  just  above  the  rusty  little 
town  of  Dieppe.  One  dark  unruly  night  she  issued  secretly  out 
of  a  small  postern  gate  of  the  castle,  which  the  enemy  had  neg- 
to  guard.  The  postern  gate  is  there  to  this  very  day ; 


THE  ADVENTURE   OF  MVF  UNCLE.  33 


opening  upon  a  narrow  bridge  over  a  deep  fosse  between  the 
castle  and  the  brow  of  the  hill.  She  was  followed  by  her  female 
attendants,  a  few  domestics,  and  some  gallant  cavaliers,  who  still 
remained  faithful  to  her  fortunes.  Her  object  was  to  gain  a 
small  port  about  two  leagues  distant,  where  she  had  privately 
provided  a  vessel  for  her  escape  in  case  of  emergency. 

"  The  little  band  of  fugitives  were  obliged  to  perform  the  dis 
tance  on  foot.  When  they  arrived  at  the  port  the  wind  was  high 
and  stormy,  the  tide  contrary,  the  vessel  anchored  far  off  in  the 
road,  and  no  means  of  getting  on  board  but  by  a  fishing  shallop 
which  lay  tossing  like  a  cockle-shell  on  the  edge  of  the  surf.  The 
Duchess  determined  to  risk  the  attempt.  The  seamen  endeavored 
to  dissuade  her,  but  the  imminence  of  her  danger  on  shore,  and 
the  magnanimity  of  her  spirit,  urged  her  on.  She  had  to  be 
borne  to  the  shallop  in  the  arms  of  a  mariner.  Such  was  the 
violence  of  the  winds  and  waves  that  he  faltered,  lost  his  foot 
hold,  and  let  his  precious  burden  fall  into  the  sea. 

"  The  Duchess  was  nearly  drowned,  but  partly  through  her 
own  struggles,  partly  by  the  exertions  of  the  seamen,  she  got  to 
land.  As  soon  as  she  had  a  little  recovered  strength,  she  insisted 
on  renewing  the  attempt.  The  storm,  however,  had  by  this  time 
become  so  violent  as  to  set  all  efforts  at  defiance.  To  delay,  was 
to  be  discovered  and  taken  prisoner.  As  the  only  resource  left, 
she  procured  horses,  mounted  with  her  female  attendants,  en 
croupe,  behind  the  gallant  gentlemen  who  accompanied  her,  and 
scoured  the  country  to  seek  some  temporary  asylum. 

"  While  the  Duchess,"  continued  the  Marquis,  laying  his  fore 
finger  on  my  uncle's  breast  to  arouse  his  flagging  attention, — 
"  while  the  Duchess,  poor  lady,  was  wandering  amid  the  tempest 

in  this  disconsolate  manner,  she  arrived  at  this  chateau.     Her 

2* 


34  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


approach  caused  some  uneasiness ;  for  the  clattering  of  a  troop 
of  horse  at  dead  of  night  up  the  avenue  of  a  lonely  chateau,  in 
those  unsettled  times,  and  in  a  troubled  part  of  the  country,  was 
enough  to  occasion  alarm. 

"  A  tall,  broad-shouldered  chasseur,  armed  to  the  teeth,  gal 
loped  ahead,  and  announced  the  name  of  the  visitor.  All  unea 
siness  was  dispelled.  The  household  turned  out  with  flambeaux 
to  receive  her,  and  never  did  torches  gleam  on  a  more  weather- 
beaten,  travel-stained  band  than  came  tramping  into  the  court. 
Such  pale,  care-worn  faces,  such  bedraggled  dresses,  as  the  poor 
Duchess  and  her  females  presented,  each  seated  behind  her  cava 
lier  :  while  the  half-drenched,  half-drowsy  pages  and  attendants 
seemed  ready  to  fall  from  their  horses  with  sleep  and  fatigue. 

"  The  Duchess  was  received  with  a  hearty  welcome  by  my 
ancestor.  She  was  ushered  into  the  hall  of  the  chateau,  and  the 
fires  soon  crackled  and  blazed,  to  cheer  herself  and  her  train ; 
and  every  spit  and  stew-pan  was  put  in  requisition  to  prepare 
ample  refreshment  for  the  wayfarers. 

"  She  had  a  right  to  our  hospitalities,"  continued  the  Marquis, 
drawing  himself  up  with  a  slight  degree  of  stateliness,  "  for  she 
was  related  to  our  family.  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  Her  father, 
Henry  de  Bourbon,  Prince  of  Conde " 

"  But,  did  the  Duchess  pass  the  night  in  the  chateau  ?"  said 
my  uncle  rather  abruptly,  terrified  at  the  idea  of  getting  involved 
in  one  of  the  Marquis's  genealogical  discussions. 

"  Oh,  as  to  the  Duchess,  she  was  put  into  the  very  apartment 
you  occupied  last  night,  which  at  that  time  was  a  kind  of  state 
apartment.  Her  followers  were  quartered  in  the  chambers  open 
ing  upon  the  neighboring  corridor,  and  her  favorite  page  slept  in 
an  adjoining  closet.  Up  and  down  the  corridor  walked  the  great 


THE  ADVENTURE   OF  MY  UNCLE  35 


chasseur  who  had  announced  her  arrival,  and  who  acted  as  a  kind 
of  sentinel  or  guard.  He  was  a  dark,  stern,  powerful-looking 
fellow  ;  and  as  the  light  of  a  lamp  in  the  corridor  fell  upon  his 
deeply-marked  face  and  sinewy  form,  he  seemed  capable  of  de 
fending  the  castle  with  his  single  arm. 

"  It  was  a  rough,  rude  night ;  about  this  time  of  the  year — 
apropos ! — now  I  think  of  it,  last  night  was  the  anniversary  of 
her  visit.  I  may  well  remember  the  precise  date,  for  it  was  a 
night  not  to  be  forgotten  by  our  house.  There  is  a  singular  tra 
dition  concerning  it  in  our  family."  Here  the  Marquis  hesitated, 
and  a  cloud  seemed  to  gather  about  his  bushy  eyebrows.  "  There 
is  a  tradition — that  a  strange  occurrence  took  place  that  night. — 
A  strange,  mysterious,  inexplicable  occurrence — "  Here  he 
checked  himself,  and  paused. 

"  Did  it  relate  to  that  lady  ?"  inquired  my  uncle  eagerly. 

"  It  was  past  the  hour  of  midnight,"  resumed  the  Marquis, — 

"  when  the  whole  chateau "  Here  he  paused  again.  My 

uncle  made  a  movement  of  anxious  curiosity. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  Marquis,  a  slight  blush  streaking  his 
sallow  visage.  "  There  are  some  circumstances  connected  with 
our  family  history  which  I  do  not  like  to  relate.  That  was  a 
rude  period.  A  time  of  great  crimes  among  great  men  :  for  you 
know  high  blood,  when  it  runs  wrong,  will  not  run  tamely,  like 
blood  of  the  canaille — poor  lady ! — But  I  have  a  little  family 
pride,  that — excuse  me — we  will  change  the  subject,  if  you 
please — " 

My  uncle's  curiosity  was  piqued.  The  pompous  and  magnifi 
cent  introduction  had  led  him  to  expect  something  wonderful  in 
the  story  to  which  it  served  as  a  kind  of  avenue.  He  had  no 
idea  of  being  cheated  out  of  it  by  a  sudden  fit  of  unreasonable 


36  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


squeamishness.  Besides,  being  a  traveller  in  quest  of  information, 
he  considered  it  his  duty  to  inquire  into  every  thing. 

The  Marquis,  however,  evaded  every  question. — "  Well," 
said  my  uncle,  a  little  petulantly,  "  whatever  you  may  think  of  it, 
I  saw  that  lady  last  night." 

The  Marquis  stepped  back  and  gazed  at  him  with  surprise. 

"  She  paid  me  a  visit  in  my  bed-chamber." 

The  Marquis  pulled  out  his  snuff-box  with  a  shrug  and  a 
smile ;  taking  this  no  doubt  for  an  awkward  piece  of  English 
pleasantry,  which  politeness  required  him  to  be  charmed  with. 

My  uncle  went  on  gravely,  however,  and  related  the  whole 
circumstance.  The  Marquis  heard  him  through  with  profound 
attention,  holding  his  snuff-box  unopened  in  his  hand.  When  the 
story  was  finished,  he  tapped  on  the  lid  of  his  box  deliberately, 
took  a  long,  sonorous  pinch  of  snuff 

"  Bah  !"  said  the  Marquis,  and  walked  towards  the  other  end 
of  the  gallery. 

Here  the  narrator  paused.  The  company  wraited  for  some 
time  for  him  to  resume  his  narration  ;  but  he  continued  silent. 

"  Well,"  said  the  inquisitive  gentleman — "  and  what  did  your 
uncle  say  then  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  other. 

"  And  what  did  the  Marquis  say  farther  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

«  And  is  that  all  ?" 

"  That  is  all,"  said  the  narrator,  filling  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  I  surmise,"  said  the  shrewd  old  gentleman  with  the  waggish 
nose, — "  I  surmise  the  ghost  must  have  been  the  old  housekeeper 
walking  her  rounds  to  see  that  all  was  right." 

"  Bah !"  said  the  narrator.     "  My  uncle  was  too  much  accus- 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  MY  UNCLE.          37 


tomed  to  strange  sights  not  to  know  a  ghost  from  a  house 
keeper." 

There  was  a  murmur  round  the  table  half  of  merriment,  half 
of  disappointment.  I  was  inclined  to  think  the  old  gentleman 
had  really  an  afterpart  of  his  story  in  reserve  ;  but  he  sipped  his 
wine  and  said  nothing  more  ;  and  there  was  an  odd  expression 
about  his  dilapidated  countenance  which  left  me  in  doubt  whether 
he  were  in  drollery  or  earnest. 

"  Egad,"  said  the  knowing  gentleman,  with  the  flexible  nose, 
"  this  story  of  your  uncle  puts  me  in  mind  of  one  that  used  to  be 
told  of  an  aunt  of  mine,  by  the  mother's  side ;  though  I  don't 
know  that  it  will  bear  a  comparison,  as  the  good  lady  was  not  so 
prone  to  meet  with  strange  adventures.  But  any  rate  you  shall 
have  it." 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  MY  AUNT. 

MY  aunt  was  a  lady  of  large  frame,  strong  mind,  and  great  reso 
lution  :  she  was  what  might  be  termed  a  very  manly  woman.  My 
uncle  was  a  thin,  puny  little  man,  very  meek  and  acquiescent, 
and  no  match  for  my  aunt.  It  was  observed  that  he  dwindled 
and  dwindled  gradually  away,  from  the  day  of  his  marriage.  His 
wife's  powerful  mind  was  too  much  for  him  ;  it  wore  him  out. 
My  aunt,  however,  took  all  possible  care  of  him ;  had  half  the 
doctors  in  town  to  prescribe  for  him  ;  made  him  take  all  their 
prescriptions,' and  dosed  him  with  physic  enough  to  cure  a  whole 
hospital.  All  was  in  vain.  My  uncle  grew  worse  and  worse  the 
more  dosing  and  nursing  he  underwent,  until  in  the  end  he  added 
another  to  the  long  list  of  matrimonial  victims  who  have  been 
killed  with  kindness. 

"And  was  it  his  ghost  that  appeared  to  her?"  asked  the 
inquisitive  gentleman,  who  had  questioned  the  former  story-teller. 

"  You  shall  hear,"  replied  the  narrator.  My  aunt  took  on 
mightily  for  the  death  of  her  poor  dear  husband.  S  Perhaps  she  felt 
some  compunction  at  having  given  him  so  much  physic,  and  nursed 
him  into  the  grave.  At  any  rate,  she  did  all  that  a  widow  could 
do  to  honor  his  memory.  She  spared  no  expense  in  either  the 
quantity  or  quality  of  her  mourning  weeds ;  wore  a  miniature  of 
him  about  her  neck  as  large  as  a  little  sun-dial,  and  had  a  full- 


THE   ADVENTURE   OF  MY  AUNT.  39 


length  portrait  of  him  always  hanging  in  her  bed-chamber.  All 
the  world  extolled  her  conduct  to  the  skies  ;  and  it  was  determin 
ed  that  a  woman  who  behaved  so  well  to  the  memory  of  one 
husband  deserved  soon  to  get  another.  ' 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  she  went  to  take  up  her  resi 
dence  in  an  old  country-seat  in  Derbyshire,  which  had  long  been 
in  the  care  of  merely  a  steward  and  housekeeper.  She  took 
most  of  her  servants  with  her,  intending  to  make  it  her  principal 
abode.  The  house  stood  in  a  lonely,  wild  part  of  the  country, 
among  the  gray  Derbyshire  hills,  with  a  murderer  hanging  in 
chains  on  a  bleak  height  in  full  view. 

The  servants  from  town  were  half  frightened  out  of  their  wits 
at  the  idea  of  living  in  such  a  dismal,  pagan-looking  place ;  es 
pecially  when  they  got  together  in  the  servants'  hall  in  the  even 
ing,  and  compared  notes  on  all  the  hobgoblin  stories  picked  up  in 
the  course  of  the  day.  They  were  afraid  to  venture  alone  about 
the  gloomy,  black-looking  chambers.  My  lady's  maid,  who  was 
troubled  with  nerves,  declared  she  could  never  sleep  alone  in  such 
a  *•'  gashly  rummaging  old  building  ;"  and  the  footman,  who  was 
a  kind-hearted  young  fellow,  did  all  in  his  power  to  cheer  her 
up. 

My  aunt  was  struck  with  the  lonely  appearance  of  the  house. 
Before  going  to  bed,  therefore,  she  examined  well  the  fastnesses 
of  the  doors  and  windows  ;  locked  up  the  plate  with  her  own 
hands,  and  carried  the  keys,  together  with  a  little  box  of  money 
and  jewels,  to  her  own  room ;  for  she  was  a  notable  woman,  and 
always  saw  to  all  things  herself.  Having  put  the  keys  under  her 
pillow,  and  dismissed  her  maid,  she  sat  by  her  toilet  arranging  her 
hair ;  for  being,  in  spite  of  her  grief  for  my  uncle,  rather  a  buxom 
widow,  she  was  somewhat  particular  about  her  person.  She  sat 


40  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


for  a  little  while  looking  at  her  face  in  the  glass,  first  on  one  side, 
then  on  the  other,  as  ladies  are  apt  to  do  when  they  would  ascer 
tain  whether  they  have  been  in  good  looks ;  .for  a  roistering 
country  squire  of  the  neighborhood,  with  whom  she  had  flirted 
when  a  girl,  had  called  that  day  to  welcome  her  to  the  country. 

All  of  a  sudden  she  thought  she  heard  something  move  behind 
her.  She  looked  hastily  round,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen. 
Nothing  but  the  grimly  painted  portrait  of  her  poor  dear  man, 
hanging  against  the  wall. 

She  gave  a  heavy  sigh  to  his  memory,  as  she  was  accustomed 
to  do  whenever  she  spoke  of  him  in  company,  and  then  went  on 
adjusting  her  night-dress,  and  thinking  of  the  squire.  Her  sigh 
was  re-echoed,  or  answered  by  a  long-drawn  breath.  She  looked 
round  again,  but  no  one  was  to  be  seen.  She  ascribed  these 
sounds  to  the  wind  oozing  through  the  rat-holes  of  the  old  man 
sion,  and  proceeded  leisurely  to  put  her  hair  in  papers,  when,  all 
at  once,  she  thought  she  perceived  one  of  the  eyes  of  the  portrait 
move. 

\ "  The  back  of  her  head  being  towards  it !"  said  the  story 
teller  with  the  ruined  head, — "  good  !" 

"  Yes,  sir !"  replied  dryly  the  narrator,  "  her  back  being 
towards  the  portrait,  but  her  eyes  fixed  on  its  reflection  in  the 
glass."  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  she  perceived  one  of  the  eyes  of 
the  portrait  move.  So  strange  a  circumstance,  as  you  may  well 
suppose,  gave  her  a  sudden  shock.  To  assure  herself  of  the  fact, 
she  put  one  hand  to  her  forehead  as  if  rubbing  it ;  peeped  through 
her  fingers,  and  moved  the  candle  with  the  other  hand.  The 
light  of  the  taper  gleamed  on  the  eye,  and  was  reflected  from  it. 
She  was  sure  it  moved.  Nay  more,  it  seemed  to  give  her  a  wink, 
as  she  had  sometimes  known  her  husband  to  do  when  living  !  It 


THE   ADVENTURE   OF   MY   AUNT.  41 


struck  a  momentary  chill  to  her  heart ;  for  she  was  a  lone  woman, 
and  felt  herself  fearfully  situated. 

The  chill  was  but  transient.  My  aunt,  j  who  was  almost  as 
resolute  a  personage  as  your  uncle,  sir,  (turning  to  the  old  story 
teller,)  jbecame  instantly  calm  and  collected.  She  went  on  ad 
justing  her  dress.  She  even  hummed  an  air,  and  did  not  make  a 
single  false  note.  She  casually  overturned  a  dressing-box  ;  took  a 
candle  and  picked  up  the  articles  one  by  one  from  the  floor ;  pur 
sued  a  rolling  pincushion  that  was  making  the  best  of  its  way 
under  the  bed  ;  then  opened  the  door  ;  looked  for  an  instant  into 
the  corridor,  as  if  in  doubt  whether  to  go;  and  then  walked 
quietly  out. 

She  hastened  down  stairs,  ordered  the  servants  to  arm  them 
selves  with  the  weapons  first  at  hand,  placed  herself  at  their  head, 
and  returned  almost  immediately. 

Her  hastily -levied  army  presented  a  formidable  force.  The 
steward  had  a  rusty  blunderbuss,  the  coachman  a  loaded  whip, 
the  footman  a  pair  of  horse-pistols,  the  cook  a  huge  chopping- 
knife,  and  the  butler  a  bottle  in  each  hand.  My  aunt  led  the  van 
with  a  red-hot  poker,  and  in  my  opinion,  she  was  the  most  formi 
dable  of  the  party.  The  waiting-maid,  who  dreaded  to  stay  alone 
in  the  servants'  hall,  brought  up  the  rear,  smelling  to  a  broken 
bottle  of  volatile  salts,  and  expressing  her  terror  of  the  ghostesses. 
£  Ghosts  !"  said  my  aunt,  resolutely.  "  I'll  singe  their  Avhiskers 
for  them !" 

They  entered  the  chamber.  All  was  still  and  undisturbed 
as  when  she  had  left  it.  They  approached  the  portrait  of  my 
uncle. 

"  Pull  down  that  picture  !"  cried  my  aunt.  A  heavy  groan, 
and  a  sound  like  the  chattering  of  teeth,  issued  from  the  portrait. 


TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


The  servants  shrunk  back ;  the  maid  uttered  a  faint  shriek,  and 
clung  to  the  footman  for  support. 

"Instantly  !"  added  my  aunt,  with  a  stamp  of  the  foot. 

The  picture  was  pulled  down,  and  from  a  recess  behind  it,  in 
which  had  formerly  stood  a  clock,  they  hauled  forth  a  round- 
shouldered,  black -bearded  varlet,  with  a  knife  as  long  as  my  arm, 
but  trembling  all  over  like  an  aspen-leaf. 

"  Well,  and  who  was  he?  No  ghost,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
inquisitive  gentleman.^j 

"  A  Knight  of  the  Post/'!  replied  the  narrator,  '. "  who  had 
been  smitten  with  the  worth 'of  the  wealthy  widow;  or  rather 
v'».-a  marauding  Tarquin,  who  had  stolen  into  her  chamber  to  violate 
her  purse,  and  rifle  her  strong-box,  when  all  the  house  should  be 
asleep.  In  plain  terms,"  continued  he,  "the  vagabond  was  a 
loose  idle  fellow  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  once  been  a  ser 
vant  in  the  house,  and  had  been  employed  to  assist  in  arranging 
it  for  the  reception  of  its  mistress.  He  confessed  that  he  had 
contrived  this  hiding-place  for  his  nefarious  purposes,  and  had 
borrowed  an  eye  from  the  portrait  by  way  of  a  reconnoitering  hole*" 

"And  what  did  they  do  with  him? — did  they  hang  him?" 
resumed  the  questioner. 

"  Hang  him  ! — how  could  they  ?"  exclaimed  a  beetle-browed 
barrister,  with  a  hawk's  nose.  "  The  offence  was  not  capital.  No 
robbery,  no  assault  had  been  committed.  No  forcible  entry  or 
breaking  into  the  premises — " 

"  My  aunt,"-  said  the  narrator,  "  was  a  woman  of  spirit,  and 
apt  to  take  the  law  in  her  own  hands.  She  had  her  own  notions 
of  cleanliness  also.  She  ordered  the  fellow  to  be  drawn  through , 
the  horse-pond,  to  cleanse  away  all  offences,  and  then  to  be  well; 
rubbed  down  with  an  oaken  towel." 


THE   ADVENTURE   OF   MY   AUNT.  43 


"  And  what  became  of  him  afterwards  ?"  said  the  inquisitive 
gentleman. 

"  I  do  not  exactly  know.  I  believe  he  was  sent  on  a  voyage 
of  improvement  to  Botany  Bay." 

^  And  your  aunt,"  said  the  inquisitive  gentleman  ;  "  I'll  war 
rant  she  took  care  to  make  her  maid  sleep  in  the  room  with  her 
after  that."  ,/^u 

"  No,  sir,  she  did  better ;  she  gave  her  hand  shortly  after  to 
the  roistering  squire ;  for  she  used  to  observe,  that  it  was  a  dis 
mal  thing  for  a  woman  to  sleep  alone  in  the  country." 

"  She  was  right,"  observed  the  inquisitive  gentleman,  nod 
ding  sagaciously  ;  "  but  I  am  sorry  they  did  not  hang  that  fel 
low." 

It  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  the  last  narrator  had  brought 
his  tale  to  the  most  satisfactory  conclusion,  though  a  country  cler 
gyman  present,  regretted  that  the  uncle  and  aunt,  who  figured  in 
the  different  stories,  had  not  been  married  together ;  they  cer 
tainly  would  have  been  well  matched. 

"  But  I  don't  see,  after  all,"  said  the  inquisitive  gentleman, 
"  that  there  was  any  ghost  in  this  last  story." 

"  Oh !  If  it's  ghosts  you  want,  honey,"  cried  the  Irish  Cap 
tain  of  Dragoons, — "  if  it's  ghosts  you  want,  you  shall  have  a 
whole  regiment  of  them.  And  since  these  gentlemen  have  given 
the  adventures  of  their  uncles  and  aunts,  faith,  and  I'll  even  give 
you  a  chapter  out  of  my  own  family  history." 


THE  BOLD  DRAGOON ; 

OR   THE 

ADVENTURE  OF  MY  GRANDFATHER. 

MY  grandfather  was  a  bold  dragoon,  for  it's  a  profession,  d'ye  see, 
that  has  run  in  the  family.  All  my  forefathers  have  been  dra 
goons,  and  died  on  the  field  of  honor,  except  myself,  and  I  hope 
my  posterity  may  be  able  to  say  the  same ;  however,  I  don't 
mean  to  be  vainglorious.  Well,  my  grandfather,  as  I  said,  was 
a  bold  dragoon,  and  had  served  in  the  Low  Countries.  In  fact, 
he  was  one  of  that  very  army,  which,  according  to  my  uncle 
Toby,  swore  so  terribly  in  Flanders.  He  could  swear  a  good 
stick  himself;  and  moreover  was  the  very  man  that  introduced 
the  doctrine  Corporal  Trim  mentions  of  radical  heat  and  radical 
moisture  ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  mode  of  keeping  out  the  damps 
of  ditch-water  by  burnt  brandy.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it's  nothing 
to  the  purport  of  my  story.  I  only  tell  it  to  show  you  that  my 
grandfather  was  a  man  not  easily  to  be  humbugged.  He  had 
seen  service,  or,  according  to  his  own  phrase,  he  had  seen  the 
devil — and  that's  saying  every  thing. 

Well,  gentlemen,  my  grandfather  was  on  his  way  to  Eng 
land,  for  which  he  intended  to  embark  from  Ostend — bad  luck  to , 
the  place  !  for  one  where  I  was  kept  by  storms  and  head-winds; 
for  three  long  days,  and  the  devil  of  a  jolly  companion  or  pretty 


THE   BOLD   DRAGOON.  45 


face  to  comfort  me.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  my  grandfather  was 
on  his  way  to  England,  or  rather  to  Ostend — no  matter  which, 
it's  all  the  same.  So  one  evening,  towards  nightfall,  he  rode  jol- 
lily  into  Bruges. — Very  like  you  all  know  Bruges,  gentlemen  ;  a 
queer  old-fashioned  Flemish  town,  once,  they  say,  a  great  place 
for  trade  and  money-making  in  old  times,  when  the  Mynheers 
were  in  their  glory  ;  but  almost  as  large  and  as  empty  as  an  Irish 
man's  pocket  at  the  present  day. — Well,  gentlemen,  it  was  at  the 
time  of  the  annual  fair.  All  Bruges  was  crowded  ;  and  the  ca 
nals  swarmed  with  Dutch  boats,  and  the  streets  swarmed  with 
Dutch  merchants ;  and  there  was  hardly  any  getting  along  for 
goods,  wares,  and  merchandises,  and  peasants  in  big  breeches,  and 
women  in  half  a  score  of  petticoats. 

My  grandfather  rode  jollily  along,  in  his  easy  slashing  way, 
for  he  was  a  saucy,  sunshiny  fellow — staring  about  him  at  the 
motley  crowd,  and  the  old  houses  with  gable  ends  to  the  street, 
and  storks'  nests  in  the  chimneys ;  winking  at  the  yafrows  who 
showed  their  faces  at  the  windows,  and  joking  the  women  right 
and  left  in  the  street ;  all  of  whom  laughed,  and  took  it  in  amaz 
ing  good  part ;  for  though  he  did  not  know  a  word  of  the  lan 
guage,  yet  he  had  always  a  knack  of  making  himself  understood 
among  the  women. 

Well,  gentlemen,  it  being  the  time  of  the  annual  fair,  all  the 
town  was  crowded,  every  inn  and  tavern  full,  and  my  grandfather 
applied  in  vain  from  one  to  the  other  for  admittance.  At  length 
he  rode  up  to  an  old  rickety  inn  that  looked  ready  to  fall  to 
pieces,  and  which  all  the  rats  would  have  run  away  from,  if  they 
could  have  found  room  in  any  other  house  to  put  their  heads.  It 
was  just  such  a  queer  building  as  you  see  in  Dutch  pictures,  with 
a  tall  roof  that  reached  up  into  the  clouds,  and  as  many  garrets, 


46  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

one  over  the  other,  as  the  seven  heavens  of  Mahomet.  Nothing 
had  saved  it  from  tumbling  down  but  a  stork's  nest  on  the  chim 
ney,  which  always  brings  good  luck  to  a  house  in  the  Low  Coun 
tries  ;  and  at  the  very  time  of  my  grandfather's  arrival,  there 
were  two  of  these  long-legged  birds  of  grace  standing  like  ghosts 
on  the  chimney-top.  Faith,  but  they've  kept  the  house  on  its 
legs  to  this  very  day,  for  you  may  see  it  any  time  you  pass 
through  Bruges,  as  it  stands  there  yet,  only  it  is  turned  into  a 
brewery  of  strong  Flemish  beer, — at  least  it  was  so  when  I  came 
that  way  after  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 

My  grandfather  eyed  the  house  curiously  as  he  approached. 
It  might  not  have  altogether  struck  his  fancy,  had  he  not  seen  in 
large  letters  over  the  door, 

HEER  VERKOOPT  MAN  GOEDEN  DRANK. 

My  grandfather  had  learnt  enough  of  the  language  to  know  that 
the  sign  promised  good  liquor.  "  This  is  the  house  for  me,"  said 
he,  stopping  short  before  the  door. 

The  sudden  appearance  of  a  dashing  dragoon  was  an  event 
in  an  old  inn,  frequented  only  by  the  peaceful  sons  of  traffic.  A 
rich  burgher  of  Antwerp,  a  stately  ample  man  in  a  broad  Fle 
mish  hat,  and  who  was  the  great  man  and  great  patron  of  the 
establishment,  sat  smoking  a  clean  long  pipe  on  one  side  of  the 
door  ;  a  fat  little  distiller  of  Geneva,  from  Schiedam,  sat  smoking 
on  the  other ;  and  the  bottle-nosed  host  stood  in  the  door,  and  the 
comely  hostess,  in  crimped  cap,  beside  him ;  and  the  hostess's 
daughter,  a  plump  Flanders  lass,  with  long  gold  pendants  in  her 
ears,  was  at  a  side  window. 

"  Humph  !"  said  the  rich  burgher  of  Antwerp,  with  a  sulky- 
glance  at  the  stranger. 


THE  BOLD   DRAGOON.  47 


"  De  duyvel I"  said  the  fat  little  distiller  of  Schiedam. 

The  landlord  saw,  with  the  quick  glance  of  a  publican,  that 
the  new  guest  was  not  at  all  to  the  taste  of  the  old  ones  ;  and,  to 
tell  the  truth,  he  did  not  like  my  grandfather's  saucy  eye.  He 
shook  his  head.  "  Not  a  garret  in  the  house  but  was  full." 

"  Not  a  garret !"  echoed  the  landlady. 

"  Not  a  garret !"  echoed  the  daughter. 

The  burgher  of  Antwerp,  and  the  little  distiller  of  Schiedam, 
continued  to  smoke  their  pipes  sullenly,  eyeing  the  enemy  as 
kance  from  under  their  broad  hats,  but  said  nothing. 

My  grandfather  was  not  a  man  to  be  browbeaten.  He  threw 
the  reins  on  his  horse's  neck,  cocked  his  head  on  one  side,  stuck 
one  arm  akimbo, — "  Faith  and  troth  !"  said  he,  "  but  I'll  sleep  in 
this  house  this  very  night." — As  he  said  this  he  gave  a  slap  on 
his  thigh,  by  way  of  emphasis — the  slap  went  to  the  landlady's 
heart. 

He  followed  up  the  vow  by  jumping  off  his  horse,  and  making 
his  way  past  the  staring  Mynheers  into  the  public  room. — May 
be  you've  been  in  the  bar-room  of  an  old  Flemish  inn — faith,  but 
a  handsome  chamber  it  was  as  you'd  wish  to  see  ;  with  a  brick 
floor,  and  a  great  lireplace,  with  the  whole  Bible  history  in  glazed 
tiles ;  and  then  the  mantel-piece,  pitching  itself  head  foremost 
out  of  the  wall,  with  a  whole  regiment  of  cracked  teapots  and 
earthen  jugs  paraded  on  it ;  not  to  mention  half  a  dozen  great 
Delft  platters,  hung  about  the  room  by  way  of  pictures  ;  and  the 
little  bar  in  one  corner,  and  the  bouncing  bar-maid  inside  of  it, 
;!  with  a  red  calico  cap  and  yellow  ear-drops. 

My  grandfather  snapped  his  fingers  over  his  head,  as  he  cast 
an  eye  round  the  room — "  Faith,  this  is  the  very  house  I've  been 
s  looking  after,"  said  he. 


48  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


There  was  some  further  show  of  resistance  on  the  part  of  the 
garrison  ;  but  my  grandfather  was  an  old  soldier,  and  an  Irish 
man  to  boot,  and  not  easily  repulsed,  especially  after  he  had  got 
into  the  fortress.  So  he  blarneyed  the  landlord,  kissed  the  land 
lord's  wife,  tickled  the  landlord's  daughter,  chucked  the  bar-maid 
under  the  chin  ;  and  it  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  it  would  be 
a  thousand  pities,  and  a  burning  shame  into  the  bargain,  to  turn 
such  a  bold  dragoon  into  the  streets.  So  they  laid  their  heads 
together,  that  is  to  say,  my  grandfather  and  the  landlady,  and  it 
was  at  length  agreed  to  accommodate  him  with  an  old  chamber 
that  had  been  for  some  time  shut  up. 

"  Some  say  it's  haunted,"  whispered  the  landlord's  daughter ; 
"  but  you  are  a  bold  dragoon,  and  I  dare  say  don't  fear  ghosts." 

"  The  devil  a  bit !"  said  my  grandfather,  pinching  her  plump 
cheek.  "  But  if  I  should  be  troubled  by  ghosts,  I've  been  to  the 
Red  Sea  in  my  time,  and  have  a  pleasant  way  of  laying  them, 
my  darling." 

And  then  he  whispered  something  to  the  girl  which  made  her 
laugh,  and  give  him  a  good-humored  box  on  the  ear.  In  short, 
there  was  nobody  knew  better  how  to  make  his  way  among  the 
petticoats  than  my  grandfather. 

In  a  little  while,  as  was  his  usual  way,  he  took  complete  pos 
session  of  the  house,  swaggering  all  over  it ;  into  the  stable  to 
look  after  his  horse,  into  the  kitchen  to  look  after  his  supper.  He 
had  something  to  say  or  do  with  every  one  ;  smoked  with  the 
Dutchmen,  drank  with  the  Germans,  slapped  the  landlord  on  the 
shoulder,  romped  with  his  daughter  and  the  bar-maid  : — never, 
since  the  days  of  Alley  Croaker,  had  such  a  rattling  blade  beea 
seen.  The  landlord  stared  at  him  with  astonishment ;  the  land 
lord's  daughter  hung  her  head  and  giggled  whenever  he  came 


THE  BOLD  DRAGOON.  49 


near ;  and  as  he  swaggered  along  the  corridor,  with  his  sword 
trailing  by  his  side,  the  maids  looked  after  him,  and  whispered  to 
one  another,  "  What  a  proper  man  !" 

At  supper,  my  grandfather  took  command  of  the  table-d'hote 
as  though  he  had  been  at  home  ;  helped  every  body,  not  forget 
ting  himself ;  talked  with  every  one,  whether  he  understood  their 
language  or  not ;  and  made  his  way  into  the  intimacy  of  the  rich 
burgher  of  Antwerp,  who  had  never  been  known  to  be  sociable 
with  any  one  during  his  life.  In  fact,  he  revolutionized  the  whole 
establishment,  and  gave  it  such  a  rouse  that  the  very  house  reeled 
with  it.  He  outsat  every  one  at  table  excepting  the  little  fat  dis 
tiller  of  Schiedam,  who  sat  soaking  a  long  time  before  he  broke 
forth  ;  but  when  he  did,  he  was  a  very  devil  incarnate.  He  took  a 
violent  affection  for  my  grandfather ;  so  they  sat  drinking  and 
smoking,  and  telling  stories,  and  singing  Dutch  and  Irish  songs, 
without  understanding  a  word  each  other  said,  until  the  little 
Hollander  was  fairly  swamped  with  his  own  gin  and  water,  and 
carried  off  to  bed,  whooping  and  hickupirig,  and  trolling  the  bur 
den  of  a  Low  Dutch  love-song. 

Well,  gentlemen,  my  grandfather  was  shown  to  his  quarters 
up  a  large  staircase,  composed  of  loads  of  hewn  timber ;  and 
through  long  rigmarole  passages,  hung  with  blackened  paintings 
of  fish,  and  fruit,  and  game,  and  country  frolics,  and  huge  kitch 
ens,  and  portly  burgomasters,  such  as  you  see  about  old-fashioned 
Flemish  inns,  till  at  length  he  arrived  at  his  room. 

An  old-times  chamber  it  was,  sure  enough,  and  crowded  with 
all  kinds  of  trumpery.  .  It  looked  like  an  infirmary  for  de_cayed  and 
superannuated  furniture,  where  every  thing  diseased  or  disabled 
was  sent  to  nurse  or  to  be  forgotten.  Or  rather  it  might  be  taken 
for  a  general  congress  of  old  legitimate  movables,  where  every 

8 


TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


kind  and  country  had  a  representative.  No  two  chairs  were 
alike.  Such  high  backs  and  low  backs,  and  leather  bottoms,  and 
worsted  bottoms,  and  straw  bottoms,  and  no  bottoms ;  and  cracked 
marble  tables  with  curiously  carved  legs,  holding  balls  in  their 
claws,  as  though  they  were  going  to  play  at  nine-pins. 

My  grandfather  made  a  bow  to  the  motley  assemblage  as  he 
entered,  and,  having  undressed  himself,  placed  his  light  in  the 
fireplace,  asking  pardon  of  the  tongs,  which  seemed  to  be  making 
love  to  the  shovel  in  the  chimney-corner,  and  whispering  soft 
nonsense  in  its  ear. 

The  rest  of  the  guests  were  by  this  time  sound  asleep,  for  your 
Mynheers  are  huge  sleepers.  The  housemaids,  one  by  one,  crept 
up  yawning  to  their  attics  ;  and  not  a  female  head  in  the  inn  was 
laid  on  a  pillow  that  night  without  dreaming  of  the  bold  dragoon. 

My  grandfather,  for  his  part,  got  into  bed,  and  drew  over  him 
one  of  those  great  bags  of  down,  under  which  they  smother  a 
man  in  the  Low  Countries  ;  and  there  he  lay,  melting  between 
two  feather  beds,  like  an  anchovy  sandwich  between  two  slices  of 
toast  and  butter.  He  was  a  warm  complexioned  man,  and  this 
smothering  played  the  very  deuce  with  him.  So,  sure  enough, 
in  a  little  time  it  seemed  as  if  a  legion  of  imps  were  twitching 
at  him,  and  all  the  blood  in  his  veins  was  in  a  fever  heat. 

He  lay  still,  however,  until  all  the  house  was  quiet,  excepting 
the  snoring  of  the  Mynheers  from  the  different  chambers ;  who 
answered  one  another  in  all  kinds  of  tones  and  cadences,  like  so 
many  bull-frogs  in  a  swamp.  The  quieter  the  house  became,  the 
more  unquiet  became  my  grandfather.  He  waxed  warmer  and 
warmer,  until  at  length  the  bed  became  too  hot  to  hold  him. 

"  May  be  the  maid  had  warmed  it  too  much  ?"  said  the  curious 
gentleman,  inquiringly. 


THE  BOLD  DRAGOON.  51 


"  I  rather  think  the  contrary,"  replied  the  Irishman.  "  But, 
be  that  as  it  may,  it  grew  too  hot  for  my  grandfather." 

"  Faith,  there's  no  standing  this  any  longer,"  says  he.  So  he 
jumped  out  of  bed  and  went  strolling  about  the  house. 

"  What  for  ?"  said  the  inquisitive  gentleman. 

"  Why  to  cool  himself,  to  be  sure — or  perhaps  to  find  a  more 
comfortable  bed — or  perhaps — But  no  matter  what  he  went  for 
— he  never  mentioned — and  there's  no  use  in  taking  up  our  time 
in  conjecturing." 

Well,  my  grandfather  had  been  for  some  time  absent  from  his 
room,  and  was  returning,  perfectly  cool,  when  just  as  he  reached 
the  door  he  heard  a  strange  noise  within.  He  paused  and  lis 
tened.  It  seemed  as  if  some  one  were  trying  to  hum  a  tune  in 
defiance  of  the  asthma.  He  recollected  the  report  of  the  room 
being  haunted ;  but  he  was  no  believer  in  ghosts,  so  he  pushed 
the  door  gently  open  and  peeped  in. 

Egad,  gentlemen,  there  was  a  gambol  carrying  on  within 
enough  to  have  astonished  St.  Anthony  himself.  By  the  light 
of  the  fire  he  saw  a  pale  weazen-faced  fellow,  in  a  long  flannel 
gown  and  a  tall  white  night-cap  with  a  tassel  to  it,  who  sat  by  the 
fire  with  a  bellows  under  his  arm  by  way  of  bagpipe,  from  which 
he  forced  the  asthmatical  music  that  had  bothered  my  grandfather. 
As  he  played,  too,  he  kept  twitching  about  with  a  thousand  queer 
contortions,  nodding  his  head,  and  bobbing  about  his  tasselled 
night-cap. 

My  grandfather  thought  this  very  odd  and  mighty  presump 
tuous,  and  was  about  to  demand  what  business  he  had  to  play  his 
wind  instrument  in  another  gentleman's  quarters,  when  a  new 
cause  of  astonishment  met  his  eye.  From  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room  a  long-backed,  bandy-legged  chair  covered  with  leather,  and 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


studded  all  over  in  a  coxcombical  fashion  with  little  brass  nails, 
got  suddenly  into  motion,  thrust  out  first  a  claw-foot,  then  a 
crooked  arm,  and  at  length,  making  a  leg,  slided  gracefully  up  to 
an  easy  chair  of  tarnished  brocade,  with  a  hole  in  its  bottom,  and 
led  it  gallantly  out  in  a  ghostly  minuet  about  the  floor. 

The  musician  now  played  fiercer  and  fiercer,  and  bobbed  his 
head  and  his  night-cap  about  like  mad.  By  degrees  the  dancing 
mania  seemed  to  seize  upon  all  the  other  pieces  of  furniture.  The 
antique,  long-bodied  chairs  paired  off  in  couples  and  led  down  a 
country  dance  ;  a  three-legged  stool  danced  a  hornpipe,  though 
horribly  puzzled  by  its  supernumerary  limb ;  while  the  amorous 
tongs  seized  the  shovel  round  the  waist,  and  whirled  it  about  the 
room  in  a  German  waltz,  In  short  all  the  movables  got  in  mo 
tion  :  pirouetting  hands  across,  right  and  left,  like  so  many  devils ; 
all  except  a  great  clothes-press,  which  kept  courtesying  and  courte- 
sying  in  a  corner,  like  a  dowager,  in  exquisite  time  to  the  music ; 
being  rather  too  corpulent  to  dance,  or,  perhaps  at  a  loss  for  a 
partner. 

My  grandfather  concluded  the  latter  to  be  the  reason  ;  so 
being,Jike  a  true  Irishman,  devoted  to  the  sex,  and  at  all  times 
ready  for  a  frolic,  he  bounced  into  the  room,  called  to  the  musician 
to,  strike  up  Paddy  O'Rafferty,  capered  up  to  the  clothes-press, 

and  seized  upon  the  two  handles  to  lead  her  out : when — 

whirr  !  the  whole  revel  was  at  an  end.  The  chairs,  tables,  tongs 
and  shovel,  slunk  in  an  instant  as  quietly  into  their  places  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  and  the  musician  vanished  up  the  chimney, 
leaving  the  bellows  behind  him  in  his  hurry.  My  grandfather 
found  himself  seated  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  with  the  clothes- 
press  sprawling  before  him,  and  the  two  handles  jerked  off,  and 
in  his  hands. 


THE  BOLD  DRAGOON.  53 


"  Then,  after  all,  this  was  a  mere  dream  !"  said  the  inquisitive 
gentleman. 

"  The  divil  a  bit  of  a  dream !"  replied  the  Irishman.  "  There 
never  was  a  truer  fact  in  this  world.  Faith,  I  should  have  liked 
to  see  any  man  tell  my  grandfather  it  was  a  dream." 

Well,  gentlemen,  as  the  clothes-press  was  a  mighty  heavy 
body,  and  my  grandfather  likewise,  particularly  in  rear,  you  may 
easily  suppose  that  two  such  heavy  bodies  coming  to  the  ground 
would  make  a  bit  of  a  noise.  Faith,  the  old  mansion  shook  as 
though  it  had  mistaken  it  for  an  earthquake.  The  whole  garri 
son  was  alarmed.  The  landlord,  who  slept  below,  hurried  up 
with  a  candle  to  inquire  the  cause,  but  with  all  his  haste  his 
daughter  had  arrived  at  the  scene  of  uproar  before  him.  The 
landlord  was  followed  by  the  landlady,  who  was  followed  by  the 
bouncing  bar-maid,  who  was  followed  by  the  simpering  chamber 
maids,  all  holding  together,  as  well  as  they  could,  such  garments 
as  they  had  first  laid  hands  on  ;  but  all  in  a  terrible  hurry  to  see 
what  the  deuce  was  to  pay  in  the  chamber  of  the  bold  dragoon. 

My  'grandfather  related  the  marvellous  scene  he  had  wit 
nessed,  and  the  broken  handles  of  the  prostrate  clothes-press  bore 
testimony  to  the  fact.  There  was  no  contesting  such  evidence ; 
particularly  with  a  lad  of  my  grandfather's  .complexion,  who 
seemed  able  to  make  good  every  word  either  with  sword  or  shille- 
lah.  So  the  landlord  scratched  his  head  and  looked  silly,  as  he 
was  apt  to  do  when  puzzled.  The  landlady  scratched — no,  she 
did  not  scratch  her  head,  but  she  knit  her  brow,  and  did  not  seem 
half  pleased  with  the  explanation.  But  the  landlady's  daughter 
corroborated  it  by  recollecting  that  the  last  person  who  had  dwelt 
in  that  chamber  was  a  famous  juggler  who  had  died  of  St.  Vitus's 
dance,  and  had  no  doubt  infected  all  the  furniture. 


54  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


This  set  all  things  to  rights,  particularly  when  the  chamber 
maids  declared  that  they  had  all  witnessed  strange  carryings  on  in 
that  room  ;  and  as  they  declared  this  "  upon  their  honors,"  there 
could  not  remain  a  doubt  upon  the  subject. 

"  And  did  your  grandfather  go  to  bed  again  in  that  room  ?" 
said  the  inquisitive  gentleman. 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  tell.  Where  he  passed  the  rest  of 
the  night  was  a  secret  he  never  disclosed.  In  fact,  though  he 
had  seen  much  service,  he  was  but  indifferently  acquainted  with 
geography,  and  apt  to  make  blunders  in  his  travels  about  inns  at 
night,  which  it  would  have  puzzled  him  sadly  to  account  for  in 
the  morning." 

"  Was  he  ever  apt  to  walk  in  his  sleep  ?"  said  the  knowing 
old  gentleman. 

"  Never  that  I  heard  of." 

There  was  a  little  pause  after  this  rigmarole  Irish  romance, 
when  the  old  gentleman  with  the  haunted  head  observed,  that  the 
stories  hitherto  related  had  rather  a  burlesque  tendency.  "  I  re 
collect  an  adventure,  however,"  added  he,  "which  I  heard  of 
during  a  residence  at  Paris,  for  the  truth  of  which  I  can  under 
take  to  vouch,  and  which  is  of  a  very  grave  and  singular  nature." 


THE 


ADVENTURE  OF  THE  GERMAN  STUDENT. 

ON  a  stormy  night,  in  the  tempestuous  times  of  the  French  revo 
lution,  a  young  German  was  returning  to  his  lodgings,  at  a  late 
hour,  across  the  old  part  of  Paris.  The  lightning  gleamed,  and 
the  loud  claps  of  thunder  rattled  through  the  lofty  narrow  streets — 
but  I  should  first  tell  you  something  about  this  young  German. 

Gottfried  Wolfgang  was  a  young  man  of  good  family.  He 
had  studied  for  some  time  at  Gottingen,  but  being  of  a  visionary 
and  enthusiastic  character,  he  had  wandered  into  those  wild  and 
speculative  doctrines  which  have  so  often  bewildered  German 
students.  His  secluded  life,  his  intense  application,  and  the  sin 
gular  nature  of  his  studies,  had  an  effect  on  both  mind  and  body. 
His  health  was  impaired;  his  imajsi^atipn^jiseased.  He  had 
been  indulging  in  fanciful  speculations  on  spiritual  essences,  until, 
like  Swedenborg,  he  had  an  ideal  world  of  his  own  around  him. 
He  took  up  a  notion,  I  do  not  know  from  what  cause,  that  there 
was  an  evil  influence  hanging  over  him ;  an  evil  genius  or  spirit 
seeking  to  ensnare  him  and  ensure  his  perdition.  Such  an  idea 
working  on  his  melancholy  temperament,  produced  the  most 
gloomy  effects.  He  became  haggard  and  desponding.  His  friends 
discovered  the  mental  malady  preying  upon  him,  and  determined 
that  the  best  cure  was  a  change  of  scene ;  he  was  sent,  therefore, 
to  finish  his  studies  amidst  the  splendors  and  gayeties  of  Paris. 


56  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


Wolfgang  arrived  at  Paris  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  revolu 
tion.  The  popular  delirium  at  first  caught  his  enthusiastic  mind, 
and  he  was  captivated  by  the  political  and  philosophical  theories 
of  the  day :  but  the  scenes  of  blood  which  followed  shocked  his 
sensitive  nature ;  disgusted  him  with  society  and  the  world,  and 
made  him  more  than  ever  a  recluse.  He  shut  himself  up  in  a 
solitary  apartment  in  the  Pays  Latin,  the  quarter  of  students. 
There,  in  a  gloomy  street  not  far  from  the  monastic  walls  of  the 
Sorbonne,  he  pursued  his  favorite  speculations.  Sometimes  he 
spent  hours  together  in  the  great  libraries  of  Paris,  those  cata 
combs  of  departed  authors,  rummaging  among  their  hoards  of 
dusty  and  obsolete  works  in  quest  of  food  for  his  unhealthy 
appetite.  He  was,  in  a  manner,  a  literary  ghoul,  feeding  in  the 
charnel-house  of  decayed  literature. 

Wolfgang,  though  solitary  and  recluse,  was  of  an  ardent  tem 
perament,  but  for  a  time  it  operated  merely  upon  his  imagination. 
He  was  too  shy  and  ignorant  of  the  world  to  make  any  advances 
to  the  fair,  but  he  was  a  passionate  admirer  of  female  beauty,  and 
in  his  lonely  chamber  would  often  lose  himself  in  reveries  on 
forms  and  faces  which  he  had  seen,  and  his  fancy  would  deck  out 
images  of  loveliness  far  surpassing  the  reality. 

While  his  mind  was  in  this  excited  and  sublimated  state,  a 
dream  produced  an  extraordinary  effect  upon  him.  It  was  of  a 
female  face  of  transcendent  beauty.  So  strong  was  the  impres 
sion  made,  that  he  dreamt  of  it  again  and  again.  It  haunted  his 
thoughts  by  day,  his  slumbers  by  night ;  in  fine,  he  became  pas 
sionately  enamoured  of  this  shadow  of  a  dream.  This  lasted  so 
long  that  it  became  one  of  those  fixed  ideas  which  haunt  the 
minds  of  melancholy  men,  and  are  at  times  mistaken  for  madness. 

Such  was  Gottfried  Wolfgang,  and  such  his  situation  at  the  time  I 


THE   GERMAN   STUDENT.  57 


mentioned.  He  was  returning  home  late  one  stormy  night,  through 
some  of  the  old  and  gloomy  streets  of  the  Marais,  the  ancient 
part  of  Paris.  The  loud  claps  of  thunder  rattled  among  the  high 
houses  of  the  narrow  streets.  He  came  to  the  Place  de  Greve, 
the  square  where  public  executions  are  performed.  The  light 
ning  quivered  about  the  pinnacles  of  the  ancient  Hotel  de  Ville, 
and  shed  flickering  gleams  over  the  open  space  in  front.  As 
Wolfgang  was  crossing  the  square,  he  shrank  back  with  horror  at 
finding  himself  close  by  the  guillotine.  It  was  the  height  of  the 
reign  of  terror,  when  this  dreadful  instrument  of  death  stood  ever 
ready,  and  its  scaffold  was  continually  running  with  the  blood  of 
the  virtuous  and  the  brave.  It  had  that  very  day  been  actively 
employed  in  the  work  of  carnage,  and  there  it  stood  in  grim  array, 
amidst  a  silent  and  sleeping  city,  waiting  for  fresh  victims. 

Wolfgang's  heart  sickened  within  him,  and  he  was  turning 
shuddering  from  the  horrible  engine,  when  he  beheld  a  shadowy 
form,  cowering  as  it  were  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  which  led  up  to 
the  scaffold.  A  succession  of  vivid  flashes  of  lightning  revealed 
it  more  distinctly.  It  was  a  female  figure,  dressed  in  black.  She 
was  seated  on  one  of  the  lower  steps  of  the  scaffold,  leaning  for 
ward,  her  face  hid  in  her  lap ;  and  her  long  dishevelled  tresses 
hanging  to  the  ground,  streaming  with  the  rain  which  fell  in  tor 
rents.  Wolfgang  paused.  There  was  something  awful  in  this 
solitary  monument  of  wo.  The  female  had  the  appearance  of 
being  above  the  common  order.  He  knew  the  times  to  be  full 
of  vicissitude,  and  that  many  a  fair  head,  which  had  once  been 
pillowed  on  down,  now  wandered  houseless.  Perhaps  this  was 
some  poor  mourner  whom  the  dreadful  axe  had  rendered  desolate, 
and  who  sat  here  heart-broken  on  the  strand  of  existence,  from 
which  all  that  was  dear  to  her  had  been  launched  into  eternity. 

3* 


58  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


He  approached,  and  addressed  her  in  the  accents  of  sympa 
thy.  She  raised  her  head  and  gazed  wildly  at  him.  What  was 
his  astonishment  at  beholding,  by  the  bright  glare  of  the  lightning, 
the  very  face  which  had  haunted  him  in  his  dreams.  It  was  pale 
and  disconsolate,  but  ravishingly  beautiful. 

Trembling  with  violent  and  conflicting  emotions,  Wolfgang 
again  accosted  her.     He  spoke  something  of  her  being  exposed 
at  such  an  hour  of  the  night,  and  to  the  fury  of  such  a  storm,  and 
offered  to  conduct  her  to  her  friends.     She  pointed  to  the  guillo 
tine  with  a  gesture  of  dreadful  signification. 
"  I  have  no  friend  on  earth !"  said  she. 
"  But  you  have  a  home,"  said  Wolfgang. 
"  Yes — in  the  grave !" 

The  heart  of  the  student  melted  at  the  words. 
"  If  a  stranger  dare  make  an  offer,"  said  he,  "  without  danger 
of  being  misunderstood,  I  would  offer  my  humble  dwelling  as  a 
shelter ;  myself  as  a  devoted  friend.  I  am  friendless  myself  in 
Paris,  and  a  stranger  in  the  land ;  but  if  my  life  could  be  of  ser 
vice,  it  is  at  your  diposal,  and  should  be  sacrificed  before  harm 
or  indignity  should  come  to  you." 

There  was  an  honest  earnestness  in  the  young  man's  manner 
that  had  its  effect.  His  foreign  accent,  too,  was  in  his  favor ;  it 
showed  him  not  to  be  a  hackneyed  inhabitant  of  Paris.  Indeed, 
there  is  an  eloquence  in  true  enthusiasm  that  is  not  to  be  doubted. 
The  homeless  stranger  confided  herself  implicitly  to  the  protection 
of  the  student. 

He  supported  her  faltering  steps  across  the  Pont  Neuf,  and 
by  the  place  where  the  statue  of  Henry  the  Fourth  had  been 
overthrown  by  the  populace.  The  storm  had  abated,  and  the 
thunder  rumbled  at  a  distance.  All  Paris  was  quiet ;  that  great 


THE   GERMAN   STUDENT.  59 


volcano  of  human  passion  slumbered  for  a  while,  to  gather  fresh 
strength  for  the  next  day's  eruption.  The  student  conducted  his 
charge  through  the  ancient  streets  of  the  Pays  Latin,  and  by  the 
dusky  walls  of  the  Sorbonne,  to  the  great  dingy  hotel  which  he 
inhabited.  The  old  portress  who  admitted  them  stared  with 
surprise  at  the  unusual  sight  of  the  melancholy  Wolfgang  with  a 
female  companion. 

On  entering  his  apartment,  the  student,  for  the  first  time, 
blushed  at  the  scantiness  and  indifference  of  his  dwelling.  He 
had  but  one  chamber — an  old-fashioned  saloon — heavily  carved, 
and  fantastically  furnished  with  the  remains  of  former  magnifi 
cence,  for  it  was  one  of  those  hotels  in  the  quarter  of  the  Luxem 
bourg  palace  which  had  once  belonged  to  nobility.  It  was  lum 
bered  with  books  and  papers,  and  all  the  usual  apparatus  of  a 
student,  and  his  bed  stood  in  a  recess  at  one  end. 

When  lights  were  brought,  and  Wolfgang  had  a  better  oppor 
tunity  of  contemplating  the  stranger,  he  was  more  than  ever 
intoxicated  by  her  beauty.  Her  face  was  pale,  but  of  a  dazzling 
fairness,  set  off  by  a  profusion  of  raven  hair  that  hung  clustering 
about  it.  Her  eyes  were  large  and  brilliant,  with  a  singular 
expression  approaching  almost  to  wildness.  As  far  as  her  black 
dress  permitted  her  shape  to  be  seen,  it  was  of  perfect  symmetry. 
Her  whole  appearance  was  highly  striking,  though  she  was 
dressed  in  the  simplest  style.  The  only  thing  approaching  to  an 
ornament  which  she  wore,  was  a  broad  black  band  round  her 
neck,  clasped  by  diamonds. 

The  perplexity  now  commenced  with  the  student  how  to  dis 
pose  of  the  helpless  being  thus  thrown  upon  his  protection.  He 
thought  of  abandoning  his  chamber  to  her,  and  seeking  shelter  for 
himself  elsewhere.  Still  he  was  so  fascinated  by  her  charms, 

• 


60  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


there  seemed  to  be  such  a  spell  upon  his  thoughts  and  senses, 
that  he  could  not  tear  himself  from  her  presence.  Her  manner, 
too,  was  singular  and  unaccountable.  She  spoke  no  more  of  the 
guillotine.  Her  grief  had  abated.  The  attentions  of  the  student 
had  first  won  her  confidence,  and  then,  apparently,  her  heart. 
She  was  evidently  an  enthusiast  like  himself,  and  enthusiasts  soon 
understand  each  other. 

In  the  infatuation  of  the  moment,  Wolfgang  avowed  his  pas 
sion  for  her.  He  told  her  the  story  of  his  mysterious  dream,  and 
how  she  had  possessed  his  heart  before  he  had  even  seen  her. 
She  was  strangely  affected  by  his  recital,  and  acknowledged  to 
have  felt  an  impulse  towards  him  equally  unaccountable.  It  was 
the  time  for  wild  theory  and  wild  actions.  Old  prejudices  and 
superstitions  were  done  away ;  every  thing  was  under  the  sway 
of  the  "  Goddess  of  Reason."  Among  other  rubbish  of  the  old 
times,  the  forms  and  ceremonies  of  marriage  began  to  be  consid 
ered  superfluous  bonds  for  honorable  minds.  Social  compacts 
were  the  vogue.  Wolfgang  was  too  much  of  a  theorist  not  to  be 
tainted  by  the  liberal  doctrines  of  the  day. 

"  Why  should  we  separate  ?"  said  he  :  "  our  hearts  are  united  ; 
in  the  eye  of  reason  and  honor  we  are  as  one.  What  need  is  there 
of  sordid  forms  to  bind  high  souls  together  ?" 

The  stranger  listened  with  emotion:  she  had  evidently  re 
ceived  illumination  at  the  same  school. 

"  You  have  no  home  nor  family,"  continued  he ;  "  let  me  be 
every  thing  to  you,  or  rather  let  us  be  every  thing  to  one  another. 
If  form  is  necessary,  form  shall  be  observed — there  is  my  hand. 
I  pledge  myself  to  you  for  ever." 

"  For  ever  ?"  said  the  stranger,  solemnly. 

"  For  ever !"  repeated  Wolfgang. 


THE   GERMAN   STUDENT.  61 


The  stranger  clasped  the  hand  extended  to  her :  "  Then  I  am 
yours,"  murmured  she,  and  sank  upon  his  bosom. 

The  next  morning  the  student  left  his  bride  sleeping,  and 
sallied  forth  at  an  early  hour  to  seek  more  spacious  apartments, 
suitable  to  the  change  in  his  situation.  When  he  returned,  he 
found  the  stranger  lying  with  her  head  hanging  over  the  bed,  and 
one  arm  thrown  over  it.  He  spoke  to  her,  but  received  no  reply. 
He  advanced  to  awaken  her  from  her  uneasy  posture.  On  taking 
her  hand,  it  was  cold — there  was  no  pulsation — her  face  was  pal 
lid  and  ghastly. — In  a  word — she  was  a  corpse. 

Horrified  and  frantic,  he  alarmed  the  house.  A  scene  of  con 
fusion  ensued.  The  police  was  summoned.  As  the  officer  of 
police  entered  the  room,  he  started  back  on  beholding  the  corpse. 

"  Great  heaven !"  cried  he,  "  how  did  this  woman  come 
here?" 

"Do  you  know  any  thing  about  her?"  said  Wolfgang,  ea 
gerly. 

"  Do  I  ?"  exclaimed  the  police  officer :  "  she  was  guillotined 
yesterday." 

He  stepped  forward ;  undid  the  black  collar  round  the  neck 
of  the  corpse,  and  the  head  rolled  on  the  floor  ! 

The  student  burst  into  a  frenzy.  "The  fiend!  the  fiend 
has  gained  possession  of  me !"  shrieked  he :  "  I  am  lost  for 
ever." 

They  tried  to  soothe  him,  but  in  vain.  He  was  possessed 
with  the  frightful  belief  that  an  evil  spirit  had  reanimated  the 
dead  body  to  ensnare  him.  He  went  distracted,  and  died  in  a 
mad-house. 

Here  the  old  gentleman  with  the  haunted  head  finished  his 
narrative. 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


"  And  is  this  really  a  fact  ?"  said  the  inquisitive  gentleman. 

"  A  fact  not  to  be  doubted,"  replied  the  other.  "  I  had  it  from 
the  best  authority.  The  student  told  it  me  himself.  I  saw  him 
in  a  mad-house  at  Paris." 


THE 

ADVENTURE  OF  THE  MYSTERIOUS  PICTURE. 

As  one  story  of  the  kind  produces  another,  and  as  all  the  com 
pany  seemed  fully  engrossed  by  the  subject,  and  disposed  to  bring 
their  relatives  and  ancestors  upon  the  scene,  there  is  no  knowing 
how  many  more  strange  adventures  we  might  have  heard,  had  not 
a  corpulent  old  fox-hunter,  who  had  slept  soundly  through  the 
whole,  now  suddenly  awakened,  with  a  loud  and  long-drawn  yawn. 
The  sound  broke  the  charm :  the  ghosts  took  to  flight,  as  though 
it  had  been  cock-crowing,  and  there  was  a  universal  move  for  bed. 

"  And  now  for  the  haunted  chamber,"  said  the  Irish  Captain, 
taking  his  candle. 

"  Ay,  who's  to  be  the  hero  of  the  night  ?"  said  the  gentleman 
with  the  ruined  head. 

"  That  we  shall  see  in  the  morning,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
with  the  nose :  "  whoever  looks  pale  and  grizzly  will  have  seen 
the  ghost." 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Baronet,  "there's  many  a  true 
thing  said  in  jest — in  fact,  one  of  you  will  sleep  in  the  room 
to-night " 

"  What — a  haunted  room  ? — a  haunted  room  ? — I  claim  the 
adventure — and  I — and  I — and  I,"  said  a  dozen  guests,  talking 
and  laughing  at  the  same  time. 


64  TALES  OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


"  No,  no,"  said  mine  host,  "  there  is  a  secret  about  one  of  my 
rooms  on  which  I  feel  disposed  to  try  an  experiment :  so,  gentle 
men,  none  of  you  shall  know  who  has  the  haunted  chamber  until 
circumstances  reveal  it.  I  will  not  even  know  it  myself,  but  will 
leave  it  to  chance  and  the  allotment  of  the  housekeeper.  At  the 
same  time,  if  it  will  be  any  satisfaction  to  you,  I  will  observe,  for 
the  honor  of  my  paternal  mansion,  that  there's  scarcely  a  chamber 
in  it  but  is  well  worthy  of  being  haunted." 

We  now  separated  for  the  night,  and  each  went  to  his  allotted 
room.  Mine  was  in  one  wing  of  the  building,  and  I  could  not 
but  smile  at  its  resemblance  in  style  to  those  eventful  apartments 
described  in  the  tales  of  the  supper-table.  It  was  spacious  and 
gloomy,  decorated  with  lampblack  portraits ;  a  bed  of  ancient 
damask,  with  a  tester  sufficiently  lofty  to  grace  a  couch  of  state, 
and  a  number  of  massive  pieces  of  old-fashioned  furniture.  I 
drew  a  great  claw-footed  arm-chair  before  the  wide  fireplace ; 
stirred  up  the  fire ;  sat  looking  into  it,  and  musing  upon  the  odd 
stories  I  had  heard,  until,  partly  overcome1  by  the  fatigue  of  the 
day's  hunting,  and  partly  by  the  wine  and  wassail  of  mine  host, 
I  fell  asleep  in  my  chair. 

The  uneasiness  of  my  position  made  my  slumber  troubled, 
and  laid  me  at  the  mercy  of  all  kinds  of  wild  and  fearful  dreams. 
Now  it  was  that  my  perfidious  dinner  and  supper  rose  in  rebellion 
against  my  peace.  I  was  hag-ridden  by  a  fat  saddle  of  mutton ; 
a  plum-pudding  weighed  like  lead  upon  my  conscience ;  the  mer 
ry-thought  of  a  capon  filled  me  with  horrible  suggestions ;  and  a 
deviled-leg  of  a  turkey  stalked  in  all  kinds  of  diabolical  shapes 
through  my  imagination.  In  short,  I  had  a  violent  fit  of  the 
nightmare.  Some  strange  indefinite  evil  seemed  hanging  over 
me  which  I  could  not  avert ;  something  terrible  and  loathsome 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  PICTURE.  65 


oppressed  me  which  I  could  not  shake  off.  I  was  conscious  of 
being  asleep,  and  strove  to  rouse  myself,  but  every  effort  re 
doubled  the  evil ;  until  gasping,  struggling,  almost  strangling,  I 
suddenly  sprang  bolt  upright  in  my  chair,  and  awoke. 

The  light  on  the  mantel-piece  had  burnt  low,  and  the  wick 
was  divided ;  there  was  a  great  winding-sheet  made  by  the  drip 
ping  wax  pn  the  side  towards  me.  The  disordered  taper  emitted 
a  broad  flaring  flame,  and  threw  a  strong  light  on  a  painting  over 
the  fireplace  which  I  had  not  hitherto  observed.  It  consisted 
merely  of  a  head,  or  rather  a  face,  staring  full  upon  me,  with  an 
expression  that  was  startling.  It  was  without  a  frame,  and  at  the 
first  glance  I  could  hardly  persuade  myself  that  it  was  not  a  real 
face  thrusting  itself  out  of  the  dark  oaken  panel.  I  sat  in  my 
chair  gazing  at  it,  and  the  more  I  gazed,  tile  more  it  disquieted 
me.  I  had  never  before  been  affected  in  the  same  way  by  any 
painting.  The  emotions  it  caused  wrere  strange  and  indefinite. 
They  were  something  like  what  I  have  heard  ascribed  to  the  eyes 
of  the  basilisk,  or  like  that  mysterious  influence  in  reptiles  termed 
fascination.  I  passed  my  hand  over  my  eyes  several  times,  as  if 
seeking  instinctively  to  brush  away  the  illusion — in  vain.  They 
instantly  reverted  to  the  picture,  and  its  chilling,  creeping  influ 
ence  over  my  flesh  and  blood  was  redoubled.  I  looked  round  the 
room  on  other  pictures,  either  to  divert  my  attention,  or  to  see 
whether  the  same  effect  would  be  produced  by  them.  Some  of 
them  were  grim  enough  to  produce  the  effect,  if  the  mere  grim- 
ness  of  the  painting  produced  it. — No  such  thing — my  eye  passed 
over  them  all  with  perfect  indifference,  but  the  moment  it  reverted 
to  this  visage  over  the  fireplace,  it  was  as  if  an  electric  shock 
darted  through  me.  The  other  pictures  were  dim  and  faded,  but 
this  one  protruded  from  a  plain  background  in  the  strongest 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


relief,  and  with  wonderful  truth  of  coloring.  The  expression 
was  that  of  agony — the  agony  of  intense  bodily  pain ;  but  a 
menace  scowled  upon  the  brow,  and  a  few  sprinklings  of  blood 
added  to  its  ghastliness.  Yet  it  was  not  all  these  characteristics ; 
it  was  some  horror  of  the  mind,  some  inscrutable  antipathy 
awakened  by  this  picture,  which  harrowed  up  my  feelings. 

I  tried  to  persuade  myself  tl^at  this  was  chimerical ;  that  my 
brain  was  confused  by  the  fumes  of  mine  host's  good  cheer,  and 
in  some  measure  by  the  odd  stories  about  paintings  which  had 
been  told  at  supper.  I  determined  to  shake  off  these  vapors  of 
the  mind  ;  rose  from  my  chair ;  walked  about  the  room ;  snapped 
my  fingers ;  rallied  myself ;  laughed  aloud. — It  was  a  forced 
laugh,  and  the  echo  of  it  in  the  old  chamber  jarred  upon  my 
ear. — I  walked  to  the  window,  and  tried  to  discern  the  landscape 
through  the  glass.  It  was  pitch  darkness,  and  a  howling  storm 
without ;  and  as  I  heard  the  wind  moan  among  the  trees,  I  caught 
a  reflection  of  this  accursed  visage  in  the  pane  of  glass,  as  though 
it  were  staring  through  the  window  at  me.  Even  the  reflection 
of  it  was  thrilling. 

How  was  this  vile  nervous  fit,  for  such  I  now  persuaded  my 
self  it  was,  to  be  conquered  ?  I  determined  to  force  myself  not 
to  look  at  the  painting,  but  to  undress  quickly  and  get  into  bed. — 
I  began  to  undress,  but  in  spite  of  every  effort  I  could  not  keep 
myself  from  stealing  a  glance  every  now  and  then  at  the  picture ; 
and  a  glance  was  sufficient  to  distress  me.  Even  when  my  back 
was  turned  to  it,  the  idea  of  this  strange  face  behind  me,  peeping 
over  my  shoulder,  was  insupportable.  I  threw  off  my  clothes  and 
hurried  into  bed,  but  still  this  visage  gazed  upon  me.  I  had  a 
full  view  of  it  in  my  bed,  and  for  some  time  could  not  take  my 
eyes  from  it.  I  had  grown  nervous  to  a  dismal  degree.  I  put 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  PICTURE.  67 


out  the  light,  and  tried  to  force  myself  to  sleep — all  in  vain. 
The  fire  gleaming  up  a  little  threw  an  uncertain  light  about  the 
room,  leaving,  however,  the  region  of  the  picture  in  deep  shadow. 
What,  thought  I,  if  this  be  the  chamber  about  which  mine  host 
spoke  as  having  a  mystery  reigning  over  it  ?  I  had  taken  his 
words  merely  as  spoken  in  jest ;  might  they  have  a  real  import : 
I  looked  around.  The  faintly  lighted  apartment  had  all  the 
qualifications  requisite  for  a  haunted  chamber.  It  began  in  my 
infected  imagination  to  assume  strange  appearances — the  old  por 
traits  turned  paler  and  paler,  and  blacker  and  blacker ;  the 
streaks  of  light  and  shadow  thrown  among  the  quaint  articles  of 
furniture  gave  them  more  singular  shapes  and  characters. — There 
was  a  huge  dark  clothes-press  of  antique  form,  gorgeous  in  brass 
and  lustrous  with  wax,  that  began  to  grow  oppressive  to  me. 

"  Am  I  then,"  thought  I,  "  indeed  the  hero  of  the  haunted 
room  ?  Is  there  really  a  spell  laid  upon  me,  or  is  this  all  some 
contrivance  of  mine  host  to  raise  a  laugh  at  my  expense  ?"  The 
idea  of  being  hag-ridden  by  my  own  fancy  all  night,  and  then 
bantered  on  my  haggard  looks  the  next  day,  was  intolerable ;  but 
the  very  idea  was  sufficient  to  produce  the  effect,  and  to  render 
me  still  more  nervous.—"  Pish,"  said  I,  "  it  can  be  no  such  thing. 
How  could  my  worthy  host  imagine  that  I,  or  any  man,  would  be 
so  worried  by  a  mere  picture  ?  It  is  my  own  diseased  imagination 
that  torments  me." 

I  turned  in  bed,  and  shifted  from  side  to  side  to  try  to  fall 
asleep ;  but  all  in  vain ;  when  one  cannot  get  asleep  by  lying 
quiet,  it  is  seldom  that  tossing  about  will  effect  the  purpose.  The 
fire  gradually  went  out,  and  left  the  room  in  darkness.  Still  I 
had  the  idea  of  that  inexplicable  countenance  gazing  and  keeping 
watch  upon  me  through  the  gloom — nay,  what  was  worse,  the 


68  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


very  darkness  seemed  to  magnify  its  terrors.  It  was  like  having 
an  unseen  enemy  hanging  about  one  in  the  night.  Instead  of 
having  one  picture  now  to  worry  me,  I  had  a  hundred.  I  fancied 
it  in  every  direction — "  There  it  is,"  thought  I,  "  and  there  !  and 
there !  with  its  horrible  and  mysterious  expression  still  gazing 
and  gazing  on  me  !  No — if  I  must  suffer  the  strange  and  dismal 
influence,  it  were  better  face  a  single  foe  than  thus  be  haunted  by 
a  thousand  images  of  it." 

Whoever  has  been  in  a  state  of  nervous  agitation,  must  know 
that  the  longer  it  continues  the  more  uncontrollable  it  grows. 
The  very  air  of  the  chamber  seemed  at  length  infected  by  the 
baleful  presence  of  this  picture.  I  fancied  it  hovering  over  me. 
I  almost  felt  the  fearful  visage  from  the  wall  approaching  my 
face — it  seemed  breathing  upon  me.  "  This  is  not  to  be  borne," 
said  I,  at  length,  springing  out  of  bed:  "I  can  stand  this  no 
longer— I  shall  only  tumble  and  toss  about  here  all  night ;  make 
a  very  spectre  of  myself,  and  become  the  hero  of  the  haunted 
chamber  in  good  earnest.  Whatever  be  the  ill  consequences,  I'll 
quit  this  cursed  room  and  seek  a  night's  rest  elsewhere — they  can 
but  laugh  at  me,  at  all  events,  and  they'll  be  sure  to  have  the 
laugh  upon  me  if  I  pass  a  sleepless  night,  and  show  them  a  hag 
gard  and  wobegon e  visage  in  the  morning." 

All  this  was  half-muttered  to  myself  as  I  hastily  slipped  on 
my  clothes,  which  having  done,  I  groped  my  way  out  of  the 
room,  and  down  stairs  to  the  drawing-room.  Here,  after  tum 
bling  over  two  or  three  pieces  of  furniture,  I  made  out  to  reach  a 
sofa,  and  stretching  myself  upon  it,  determined  to  bivouac  there 
for  the  night.  The  moment  I  found  myself  out  of  the  neigh 
borhood  of  that  strange  picture,  it  seemed  as  if  the  charm  were 
broken.  All  its  influence  was  at  an  end.  I  felt  assured  that  it 


THE  MYSTERIOUS   PICTURE. 


was  confined  to  its  own  dreary  chamber,  for  I  had,  with  a  sort  of 
instinctive  caution,  turned  the  key  when  I  closed  the  door,  I 
soon  calmed  down,  therefore,  into  a  state  of  tranquillity ;  from 
that  into  a  drowsiness,  and,  finally,  into  a  deep  sleep ;  out  of 
which  I  did  not  awake  until  the  housemaid,  with  her  besom  and 
her  matin  song,  came  to  put  the  room  in  order.  She  stared  at 
finding  me  stretched  upon  the  sofa,  but  I  presume  circumstances 
of  the  kind  were  not  uncommon  after  hunting-dinners  in  her 
master's  bachelor  establishment,  for  she  went  on  with  her  song 
and  her  work,  and  took  no  further  heed  of  me. 

I  had  an  unconquerable  repugnance  to  return  to  my  cham 
ber  ;  so  I  found  my  way  to  the  butler's  quarters,  made  my  toilet 
in  the  best  way  circumstances  would  permit,  and  was  among  the 
first  to  appear  at  the  breakfast-table.  Our  breakfast  was  a  sub 
stantial  fox-hunter's  repast,  and  the  company  generally  assembled 
at  it.  When  ample  justice  had  been  done  to  the  tea,  coffee,  cold 
meats,  and  humming  ale,  for  all  these  were  furnished  in  abun 
dance,  according  to  the  tastes  of  the  different  guests,  the  conver 
sation  began  to  break  out  with  all  the  liveliness  and  freshness  of 
morning  mirth. 

"  But  who  is  the  hero  of  the  haunted  chamber — who  has  seen 
the  ghost  last  night  ?"  said  the  inquisitive  gentleman,  rolling  his 
lobster  eyes  about  the  table. 

The  question  set  every  tongue  in  motion ;  a  vast  deal  of  ban 
tering,  criticising  of  countenances,  of  mutual  accusation  and  retort, 
took  place.  Some  had  drunk  deep,  and  some  were  unshaven ; 
so  that  there  were  suspicious  faces  enough  in  the  assembly.  I 
alone  could  not  enter  with  ease  and  vivacity  into  the  joke — I  felt 
tongue-tied,  embarrassed.  A  recollection  of  what  I  had  seen  and 
felt  the  preceding  night  still  haunted  my  mind.  It  seemed  as  if 


70  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


the  mysterious  picture  still  held  a  thrall  upon  me.  I  thought  also 
that  our  host's  eye  was  turned  on  me  with  an  air  of  curiosity.  In 
short,  I  was  conscious  that  I  was  the  hero  of  the  night,  and  felt 
as  if  every  one  might  read  it  in  my  looks.  The  joke,  however, 
passed  over,  and  no  suspicion  seemed  to  attach  to  me.  I  was  just 
congratulating  myself  on  my  escape,  when  a  servant  came  in  say 
ing,  that  the  gentleman  who  had  slept  on  the  sofa  in  the  drawing- 
room  had  left  his  watch  under  one  of  the  pillows.  My  repeater 
was  in  his  hand. 

"  What !"  said  the  inquisitive  gentleman,  "  did  any  gentleman 
sleep  on  the  sofa  ?" 

"  Soho  !  soho !  a  hare — a  hare  !"  cried  the  old  gentleman  with 
the  flexible  nose. 

I  could  not  avoid  acknowledging  the  watch,  and  was  rising  in 
great  confusion,  when  a  boisterous  old  squire  who  sat  beside  me 
exclaimed,  slapping  me  on  the  shoulder,  "  'Sblood,  lad,  thou  art 
the  man  as  has  seen  the  ghost !" 

The  attention  of  the  company  was  immediately  turned  to  me : 
if  my  face  had  been  pale  the  moment  before,  it  now  glowed  almost 
to  burning.  I  tried  to  laugh,  but  could  only  make  a  grimace,  and 
found  the  muscles  of  my  face  twitching  at  sixes  and  sevens,  and 
totally  out  of  all  control. 

It  takes  but  little  to  raise  a  laugh  among  a  set  of  fox-hunters ; 
there  was  a  world  of  merriment  and  joking  on  the  subject,  and  as 
I  never  relished  a  joke  overmuch  when  it  was  at  my  own  ex 
pense,  I  began  to  feel  a  little  nettled.  I  tried  to  look  cool  and 
calm,  and  to  restrain  my  pique ;  but  the  coolness  and  calmness  of 
a  man  in  a  passion  are  confounded  treacherous. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  I,  with  a  slight  cocking  of  the  chin,  and  a' 
bad  attempt  at  a  smile,  "  this  is  all  very  pleasant — ha !  ha ! — very 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  PICTURE.  71 


pleasant — but  I'd  have  you  know,  I  am  as  little  superstitious  as 
any  of  you — ha !  ha ! — and  as  to  any  thing  like  timidity — you  may 
smile,  gentlemen,  but  I  trust  there's  no  one  here  means  to  insinu 
ate,  that — as  to  a  room's  being  haunted — I  repeat,  gentlemen, 
(growing  a  little  warm  at  seeing  a  cursed  grin  breaking  out  round 
me,)  as  to  a  room's  being  haunted,  I  have  as  little  faith  in  such 
silly  stories  as  any  one.  But,  since  you  put  the  matter  home  to 
me,  I  will  say  that  I  have  met  with  something  in  my  room  strange 
and  inexplicable  to  me.  (A  shout  of  laughter.)  Gentlemen,  I 
am  serious ;  I  know  well  what  I  am  saying ;  I  am  calm,  gentle 
men,  (striking  my  fist  upon  the  table,)  by  Heaven,  I  am  calm.  I 
am  neither  trifling,  nor  do  I  wish  to  be  trifled  with.  (The  laugh 
ter  of  the  company  suppressed,  and  with  ludicrous  attempts  at 
gravity.)  There  is  a  picture  in  the  room  in  which  I  was  put  last 
night,  that  has  had  an  effect  upon  me  the  most  singular  and 
incomprehensible." 

"  A  picture  ?"  said  the  old  gentleman  with  the  haunted  head. 
"  A  picture !"  cried  the  narrator  with  the  nose.  "  A  picture  !  a 
picture  !"  echoed  several  voices.  Here  there  was  an  ungovernable 
peal  of  laughter.  I  could  not  contain  myself.  I  started  up  from 
my  seat ;  looked  round  on  the  company  with  fiery  indignation  ; 
thrust  both  of  my  hands  into  my  pockets,  and  strode  up  to  one  of 
the  windows  as  though  I  would  have  walked  through  it.  I 
stopped  short,  looked  out  upon  the  landscape  without  distinguish 
ing  a  feature  of  it,  and  felt  my  gorge  rising  almost  to  suffocation. 

Mine  host  saw  it  was  time  to  interfere.  He  had  maintained 
an  air  of  gravity  through  the  whole  of  the  scene  ;  and  now  stepped 
forth,  as  if  to  shelter  me  from  the  overwhelming  merriment  of  my 
companions. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I  dislike  to  spoil  sport,  but  you  have 


72  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


had  your  laugh,  and  the  joke  of  the  haunted  chamber  has  been 
enjoyed.  I  must  now  take  the  part  of  my  guest.  I  must  not 
only  vindicate  him  from  your  pleasantries,  but  I  must  reconcile 
him  to  himself,  for  I  suspect  he  is  a  little  out  of  humor  with  his 
own  feelings ;  and,  above  all,  I  must  crave  his  pardon  for  having 
made  him  the  subject  of  a  kind  of  experiment.  Yes,  gentlemen, 
there  is  something  strange  and  peculiar  in  the  chamber  to  which 
our  friend  was  shown  last  night ;  there  is  a  picture  in  my  house, 
which  possesses  a  singular  and  mysterious  influence,  and  with 
which  there  is  connected  a  very  curious  story.  It  is  a  picture  to 
which  I  attach  a  value  from  a  variety  of  circumstances;  and 
though  I  have  often  been  tempted  to  destroy  it,  from  the  odd 
and  uncomfortable  sensations  which  it  produces  in  every  one  that 
beholds  it,  yet  I  have  never  been  able  to  prevail  upon  myself  to 
make  the  sacrifice.  It  is  a  picture  I  never  like  to  look  upon 
myself,  and  which  is  held  in  awe  by  all  my  servants.*  I  have 
therefore  banished  it  to  a  room  but  rarely  used,  and  should  have 
had  it  covered  last  night,  had  not  the  nature  of  our  conversation, 
and  the  whimsical  talk  about  a  haunted  chamber,  tempted  me  to 
let  it  remain,  by  way  of  experiment,  to  see  whether  a  stranger, 
totally  unacquainted  with  its  story,  would  be  affected  by  it." 

The  words  of  the  Baronet  had  turned  every  thought  into  a 
different  channel.  All  were  anxious  to  hear  the  story  of  the 
mysterious  picture ;  and,  for  myself,  so  strangely  were  my  feel 
ings  interested,  that  I  forgot  to  feel  piqued  at  the  experiment 
which  my  host  had  made  upon  my  nerves,  and  joined  eagerly  in 
the  general  entreaty.  As  the  morning  was  stormy,  and  denied 
all  egress,  my  host  was  glad  of  any  means  of  entertaining  his 
company ;  so,  drawing  his  arm-chair  towards  the  fire,  he  began. — 


THE 

•ADVENTURE  OF  THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER. 

MANY  years  since,  when  I  was  a  young  man,  and  had  just  left 
Oxford,  I  was  sent  on  the  grand  tour  to  finish  my  education.  I 
believe  my  parents  had  tried  in  vain  to  inoculate  me  with  wis 
dom  ;  so  they  sent  me  to  mingle  with  society,  in  hopes  that  I 
might  take  it  the  natural  way.  Such,  at  least,  appears  the  reason 
for  which  nine-tenths  of  our  youngsters  are  sent  abroad.  In  the 
course  of  my  tour  I  remained  some  time  at  Venice.  The  roman 
tic  character  of  that  place  delighted  me ;  I  was  very  much 
amused  by  the  air  of  adventure  and  intrigue  prevalent  in  this 
region  of  masks  and  gondolas  ;  and  I  was  exceedingly  smitten  by 
a  pair  of  languishing  black  eyes,  that  played  upon  my  heart  from 
under  an  Italian  mantle ;  so  I  persuaded  myself  that  I  was  lin 
gering  at  Venice  to  study  men  and  manners  ;  at  least  I  persuaded 
my  friends  so,  and  that  answered  all  my  purposes. 

I  was  a  little  prone  to  be  struck  by  peculiarities  in  character 
and  conduct,  and  my  imagination  was  so  full  of  romantic  associa 
tions  with  Italy,  that  I  was  always  on  the  look-out  for  adventure. 
Every  thing  chimed  in  with  such  a  humor  in  this  old  mermaid  of 
a  city.  My  suit  of  apartments  were  in  a  proud,  melancholy 
palace  on  the  grand  canal,  formerly  the  residence  of  a  magnifico, 
and  sumptuous  with  the  traces  of  decayed  grandeur.  My  gondo- 

4 


74  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


lier  was  one  of  the  shrewdest  of  his  class,  active,  merry,  intelli-  / 
gent,  and,  like  his  brethren,  secret  as  the  grave  ;  that  is  to  say, 
secret  to  all  the  world  except  his  master.  I  had  not  had  him  a 
week  before  he  put  me  behind  all  the  curtains  in  Venice.  I . 
liked  the  silence  and  mystery  of  the  place,  and  when  I  sometimes 
saw  from  my  window  a  black  gondola  gliding  mysteriously  along 
in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  with  nothing  visible  but  its  little  glim 
mering  lantern,  I  would  jump  into  my  own  .zendeletta,  and  give  a 
signal  for  pursuit — "  But  I  am  running  away  from  my  subject 
with  the  recollection  of  youthful  follies,"  said  the  Baronet,  check 
ing  himself.  "  Let  us  come  to  the  point." 

Among  my  familiar  resorts  was  a  cassino  under  the  arcades 
on  one  side  of  the  grand  square  of  St.  Mark.  Here  I  used  fre 
quently  to  lounge  and  take  my  ice,  on  those  warm  summer  nights, 
when  in  Italy  every  body  lives  abroad  until  morning.  I  was 
seated  here  one  evening,  when  a  group  of  Italians  took  their  seat 
at  a  table  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  saloon.  Their  conversation 
was  gay  and  animated,  and  carried  on  with  Italian  vivacity  and 
gesticulation.  I  remarked  among  them  one  young  man,  however, 
who  appeared  to  take  no  share,  and  find  no  enjoyment  in  the  con 
versation,  though  he  seemed  to  force  himself  to  attend  to  it.  He 
was  tall  and  slender,  and  of  extremely  prepossessing  appearance. 
His  features  were  fine,  though  emaciated.  He  had  a  profusion 
of  black  glossy  hair,  that  curled  lightly  about  his  head,  and  con 
trasted  with  the  extreme  paleness  of  his  countenance.  His  brow 
was  haggard ;  deep  furrows  seemed  to  have  been  ploughed  into 
his  visage  by  care,  not  by  age,  for  he  was  evidently  in  the  prime 
of  youth.  His  eye  was  full  of  expression  and  fire,  but  wild  and 
unsteady.  He  seemed  to  be  tormented  by  some  strange  fancy  or  ] 
apprehension.  In  spite  of  every  effort  to  fix  his  attention  on  the 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  75 


conversation  of  his  companions,  I  noticed  that  every  now  and 
then  he  would  turn  his  head  slowly  round,  give  a  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  and  then  withdraw  it  with  a  sudden  jerk,  as  if  some 
thing  painful  met  his  eye.  This  was  repeated  at  intervals  of 
about  a  minute,  and  he  appeared  hardly  to  have  recovered  from 
one  shock,  before  I  saw  him  slowly  preparing  to  encounter 
another. 

After  sitting  some  time  in  the  cassino,  the  party  paid  for  the 
refreshment  they  had  taken,  and  departed.  The  young  man 
was  the  last  to  leave  the  saloon,  and  I  remarked  him  glancing 
behind  him  in  the  same  way,  just  as  he  passed  out  of  the  door. 
I  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  rise  and  follow  him ;  for  I  was 
at  an  age  when  a  romantic  feeling  of  curiosity  is  easily  awakened. 
The  party  walked  slowly  down  the  arcades,  talking  and  laughing 
as  they  went.  They  crossed  the  Piazetta,  but  paused  in  the 
middle  of  it  to  enjoy  the  scene.  It  was  one  of  those  moonlight 
nights,  so  brilliant  and  clear  in  the  pure  atmosphere  of  Italy. 
The  moonbeams  streamed  on  the  tall  tower  of  St.  Mark,  and 
lighted  up  the  magnificent  front  and  swelling  domes  of  the  cathe 
dral.  The  party  expressed  their  delight  in  animated  terms.  I 
kept  my  eye  upon  the  young  man.  He  alone  seemed  abstracted 
and  self-occupied.  I  noticed  the  same  singular  and,  as  it  were, 
furtive  glance  over  the  shoulder,  which  had  attracted  my  atten 
tion  in  the  cassino.  The  party  moved  on,  and  I  followed  ;  they 
passed  along  the  walk  called  the  Broglio,  turned  the  corner 
of  the  Ducal  Palace,  and  getting  into  a  gondola,  glided  swiftly 
away. 

The  countenance  and  conduct  of  this  young  man  dwelt  upon 
my  mind,  and  interested  me  exceedingly.  I  met  him  a  day  or 
two  afterwards  in  a  gallery  of  paintings.  He  was  evidently  a 


76  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


connoisseur,  for  he  always  singled  out  the  most  masterly  produc 
tions,  and  the  few  remarks  drawn  from  him  by  his  companions 
showed  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  art.  His  own  taste, 
however,  ran  on  singular  extremes.  On  Salvator  Rosa,  in  his 
most  savage  and  solitary  scenes ;  on  Raphael,  Titian,  and  Cor- 
reggio,  in  their  softest  delineations  of  female  beauty  ;  on  these 
he  would  occasionally  gaze  with  transient  enthusiasm.  But  this 
seemed  only  a  momentary  forgetfulness.  Still  would  recur  that 
cautious  glance  behind,  and  always  quickly  withdrawn,  as  though 
something  terrible  met  his  view. 

I  encountered  him  frequently  afterwards  at  the  theatre,  at 
balls,  at  concerts  ;  at  the  promenades  in  the  gardens  of  San 
Georgia  ;  at  the  grotesque  exhibitions  in  the  square  of  St.  Mark ; 
among  the  throng  of  merchants  on  the  exchange  by  the  Rialto. 
He  seemed,  in  fact,  to  seek  crowds  ;  to  hunt  after  bustle  and 
amusement ;  yet  never  to  take  any  interest  in  either  the  business 
or  the  gayety  of  the*  scene.  Ever  an  air  of  painful  thought,  of 
wretched  abstraction  ;  and  ever  that  strange  and  recurring  move 
ment  of  glancing  fearfully  over  the  shoulder.  I  did  not  know  at 
first  but  this  might  be  caused  by  apprehension  of  arrest ;  or,  per 
haps,  from  dread  of  assassination.  But  if  so,  why  should  he  go 
thus  continually  abroad ;  why  expose  himself  at  all  times  and  in 
all  places  ? 

I  became  anxious  to  know  this  stranger.  I  was  drawn  to  him 
by  that  romantic  sympathy  which  sometimes  draws  young  men 
towards  each  other.  His  melancholy  threw  a  charm  about  him, 
no  doubt  heightened  by  the  touching  expression  of  his  counte 
nance,  and  the  manly  graces  of  his  person ;  for  manly  beauty  has 
its  effect  even  upon  men.  I  had  an  Englishman's  habitual  diffi-' 
dence  and  awkwardness  to  contend  with ;  but  from  frequently 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   STRANGER.  77 


meeting  him  in  the  cassinos,  I  gradually  edged  myself  into  his  ac 
quaintance.  I  had  no  reserve  on  his  part  to  contend  with.  He 
seemed,  on  the  contrary,  to  court  society  ;  and,  in  fact,  to  seek 
any  thing  rather  than  be  alone. 

When  he  found  that  I  really  took  an  interest  in  him,  he  threw 
himself  entirely  on  my  friendship.  He  clung  to  me  like  a  drown 
ing  man.  He  would  walk  with  me  for  hours  up  and  down  the 
place  of  St.  Mark — or  would  sit,  until  night  was  far  advanced,  in 
my  apartments.  He  took  rooms  under  the  same  roof  with  me ; 
and  his  constant  request  was  that  I  would  permit  him,  when  it  did 
not  incommode  me,  to  sit  by  me  in  my  saloon.  It  was  not  that  he 
seemed  to  take  a  particular  delight  in  my  conversation,  but  rather 
that  he  craved  the  vicinity  of  a  human  being  ;  and,  above  all,  of 
a  being  that  sympathized  with  him.  "  Iliave  often  heard,"  said 
he,  "  of  the  sincerity  of  Englishmen — thank  God  I  have  one  at 
length  for  a  friend !" 

Yet  he  never  seemed  disposed  to  avail  himself  of  my  sym 
pathy  other  than  by  mere  companionship.  He  never  sought  to 
unbosom  himself  to  me :  there  appeared  to  be  a  settled  corroding 
anguish  in  his  bosom  that  neither  could  be  soothed  "  by  silence 
nor  by  speaking." 

A  devouring  melancholy  preyed  upon  his  heart,  and  seemed 
to  be  drying  up  the  very  blood  in  his  veins.  It  was  not  a  soft 
melancholy,  the  disease  of  the  affections,  but  a  parching,  wither 
ing  agony.  I  could  see  at  times  that  his  mouth  was  dry  and 
feverish  ;  he  panted  rather  than  breathed  ;  his  eyes  were  blood 
shot  ;  his  cheeks  pale  and  livid  ;  with  now  and  then  faint  streaks 
of  red  athwart  them,  baleful  gleams  of  the  fire  that  was  con 
suming  his  heart.  As  my  arm  was  within  his,  I  felt  him  press  it 
at  times  with  a  convulsive  motion  to  his  side  ;  his  hands  would 


78  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


clinch  themselves  involuntarily,  and  a  kind  of  shudder  would  run 
through  his  frame. 

I  reasoned  with  him  about  his  melancholy,  sought  to  draw 
from  him  the  cause  ;  he  shrunk  from  all  confiding  :  "  Do  not  seek 
to  know  it,"  said  he,  "  you  could  not  relieve  it  if  you  knew  it ; 
you  would  not  even  seek  to  relieve  it.  On  the  contrary,  I  should 
lose  your  sympathy,  and  that,"  said  he,  pressing  my  hand  convul 
sively,  "  that  I  feel  has  become  too  dear  to  me  to  risk." 

I  endeavored  to  awaken  hope  within  him.  He  was  young ; 
life  had  a  thousand  pleasures  in  store  for  him  ;  there  was  a  healthy 
reaction  in  the  youthful  heart ;  it  medicines  all  its  own  wounds — 
"  Come,  come,"  said  I,  "  there  is  no  grief  so  great  that  youth 
cannot  outgrow  it." — "  No !  no  !"  said  he,  clinching  his  teeth,  and 
striking  repeatedly,  with,  the  energy  of  despair,  on  his  bosom — 
"  it  is  here  !  here  !  deep  rooted  ;  draining  my  heart's  blood.  It 
grows  and  grows,  while  my  heart  withers  and  withers.  I  have  a 
dreadful  monitor  that  gives  me  no  repose — that  follows  me  step 
by  step — and  will  follow  me  step  by  step,  until  it  pushes  me  into 
my  grave !" 

As  he  said  this  he  involuntarily  gave  one  of  those  fearful 
glances  over  his  shoulder,  and  shrunk  back  with  more  than  usual 
horror.  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  allude  to  this  move 
ment,  which  I  supposed  to  be  some  mere  malady  of  the  nerves. 
The  moment  I  mentioned  it,  his  face  became  crimsoned  and  con 
vulsed  ;  he  grasped  me  by  both  hands — 

"  For  God's  sake,"  exclaimed  he,  with  a  piercing  voice,  "never 
allude  to  that  again. — Let  us  avoid  this  subject,  my  friend ;  you 
cannot  relieve  me,  indeed  you  cannot  relieve  me,  but  you  may 
add  to  the  torments  I  suffer. — At  some  future  day  you  shall 
know  all." 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   STRANGER.  79 


I  never  resumed  the  subject ;  for  however  much  my  curiosity 
might  be  roused,  I  felt  too  true  a  compassion  for  his  sufferings  to 
increase  them  by  my  intrusion.  I  sought  various  ways  to  divert 
his  mind,  and  to  arouse  him  from  the  constant  meditations  in 
which  he  was  plunged.  He  saw  my  efforts,  and  seconded  them 
as  far  as  in  his  power,  for  there  was  nothing  moody  or  wayward 
in  his  nature.  On  the  contrary,  there  was  something  frank,  gen 
erous,  unassuming  in  his  whole  deportment.  All  the  sentiments 
he  uttered  were  noble  and  lofty.  He  claimed  no  indulgence, 
asked  no  toleration,  but  seemed  content  to  carry  his  load  of 
misery  in  silence,  and  only  sought  to  carry  it  by  my  side.  There 
was  a  mute  beseeching  manner  about  him,  as  if  he  craved  com 
panionship  as  a  charitable  boon ;  and  a  tacit  thankfulness  in  his 
looks,  as  if  he  felt  grateful  to  me  for  not  repulsing  him. 

I  felt  this  melancholy  to  be  infectious.  It  stole  over  my 
spirits ;  interfered  with  all  my  gay  pursuits,  and  gradually  sad 
dened  my  life  ;  yet  I  could  not  prevail  upon  myself  to  shake  off 
a  being  who  seemed  to  hang  upon  me  for  support.  In  truth,  the 
generous  traits  of  character  which  beamed  through  all  his  gloom 
penetrated  to  my  heart.  His  bounty  was  lavish  and  open-handed  : 
his  charity  melting  and  spontaneous  ;  not  confined  to  mere  do 
nations,  which  humiliate  as  much  as  they  relieve.  The  tone  of 
his  voice,  the  beam  of  his  eye,  enhanced  every  gift,  and  surprised 
the  poor  suppliant  with  that  rarest  and  sweetest  of  charities,  the 
charity  not  merely  of  the  hand,  but  of  the  heart.  Indeed  his 
liberality  seemed  to  have  something  in  it  of  self-abasement  and 
expiation.  He,  in  a  manner,  humbled  himself  before  the  mendi 
cant.  "  What  right  have  I  to  ease  and  affluence " — would  he 
murmur  to  himself — "  when  innocence  wanders  in  misery  and 
rags?" 


80  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


The  carnival  time  arrived.  I  hoped  the  gay  scenes  then  pre 
sented  might  have  some  cheering  effect.  I  mingled  with  him  in 
the  motley  throng  that  crowded  the  place  of  St.  Mark.  We  fre 
quented  operas,  masquerades,  balls — all  in  vain.  The  evil  kept 
growing  on  him.  He  became  more  and  more  haggard  and  agi 
tated.  Often,  after  we  have  returned  from  one  of  these  scenes 
of  revelry,  I  have  entered  his  room  and  found  him  lying  on  his 
face  on  the  sofa ;  his  hands  clinched  in  his  fine  hair,  and  his 
whole  countenance  bearing  traces  of  the  convulsions  of  his  mind. 

The  carnival  passed  away  ;  the  time  of  Lent  succeeded  ;  pas 
sion  week  arrived  ;  we  attended  one  evening  a  solemn  service  in 
one  of  the  churches,  in  the  course  of  which  a  grand  piece  of  vo 
cal  and  instrumental  music  was  performed,  relating  to  the  death 
of  our  Saviour. 

I  had  remarked  that  he  was  always  powerfully  affected  by 
music ;  on  this  occasion  he  was  so  in  an  extraordinary  degree. 
As  the  pealing  notes  swelled  through  the  lofty  aisles  ;  he  seemed 
to  kindle  with  fervor  ;  his  eyes  rolled  upwards,  until  nothing  but 
the  whites  were  visible  ;  his  hands  were  clasped  together,  until 
the  fingers  were  deeply  imprinted  in  the  flesh.  When  the  music 
expressed  the  dying  agony,  his  face  gradually  sank  upon  his 
knees  ;  and  at  the  touching  words  resounding  through  the  church, 
"  Jesu  mori"  sobs  burst  from  him  uncontrolled — I  had  never 
seen  him  weep  before.  His  had  always  been  agony  rather  than 
sorrow.  I  augured  well  from  the  circumstance,  and  let  him  weep 
on  uninterrupted.  When  the  service  was  ended,  we  left  the 
church.  He  hung  on  my  arm  as  we  walked  homewards  with 
something  of  a  softer  and  more  subdued  manner,  instead  of  that 
nervous  agitation  I  had  been  accustomed  to  witness.  He  alluded 
to  the  service  we  had  heard.  "  Music,"  said  he,  "  is  indeed  the 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   STRANGER.  81 


voice  of  heaven  ;  never  before  have  I  felt  more  impressed  by  the 
story  of  the  atonement  of  our  Saviour. — Yes,  my  friend,"  said 
he,  clasping  his  hands  with  a  kind  of  transport,  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth  !" 

We  parted  for  the  night.  His  room  was  not  far  from  mine, 
and  I  heard  him  for  some  time  busied  in  it.  I  fell  asleep,  but 
was  awakened  before  daylight.  The  young  man  stood  by  my 
bedside,  dressed  for  travelling.  He  held  a  sealed  packet  and  a 
large  parcel  in  his  hand,  which  he  laid  on  the  table. 

"  Farewell,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  I  am  about  to  set  forth  on 
a  long  journey  ;  but,  before  I  go,  I  leave  with  you  these  remem 
brances.  In  this  packet  you  will  find  the  particulars  of  my  story. 
— When  you  read  them  I  shall  be  far  away  ;  do  not  remember 
me  with  aversion. — You  have  been  indeed  a  friend  to  me. — You 
have  poured  oil  into  a  broken  heart,  but  you  could  not  heal  it. — 
Farewell !  let  me  kiss  your  hand — I  am  unworthy  to  embrace 
you."  He  sank  on  his  knees — seized  my  hand  in  despite  of  my 
efforts  to  the  contrary,  and  covered  it  with  kisses.  I  was  so  sur 
prised  by  all  the  scene,  that  I  had  not  been  able  to  say  a  word. — 
"  But  we  shall  meet  again,"  said  I  hastily,  as  I  saw  him  hurrying 
towards  the  door.  "  Never,  never,  in  this  world  !"  said  he  so 
lemnly. — He  sprang  once  more  to  my  bedside — seized  my  hand, 
pressed  it  to  his  heart  and  to  his  lips,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room. 

Here  the  Baronet  paused.  He  seemed  lost  in  thought,  and 
sat  looking  upon  the  floor,  and  drumming  with  his  fingers  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair. 

"  And  did  this  mysterious  personage  return  ?"  said  the  inqui 
sitive  gentleman. 

'•  Never !"  replied  the  Baronet,  with  a  pensive  shake  of  the 

head — "  I  never  saw  him  again." 

4* 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


"  And  pray  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  picture  ?"  inquired 
the  old  gentleman  with  the  nose. 

"  True,"  said  the  questioner — "  is  it  the  portrait  of  that  crack- 
brained  Italian  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Baronet,  dryly,  not  half  liking  the  appellation 
given  to  his  hero — "  but  this  picture  was  inclosed  in  the  parcel  he 
left  with  me.  The  saaled  packet  contained  its  explanation. 
There  was  a  request  on  the  outside  that  I  would  not  open  it  until 
six  months  had  elapsed.  I  kept  my  promise  in  spite  of  my 
curiosity.  I  have  a  translation  of  it  by  me,  and  had  meant  to 
read  it,  by  way  of  accounting  for  the  mystery  of  the  chamber ; 
but  I  fear  I  have  already  detained  the  company  too  long." 

Here  there  was  a  general  wish  expressed  to  have  the  manu 
script  read,  particularly  on  the  part  of  the  inquisitive  gentleman  ; 
so  the  worthy  Baronet  drew  out  a  fairly-written  manuscript,  and, 
wiping  his  spectacles,  read  aloud  the  following  story. — 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  YOUNG  ITALIAN. 

I  WAS  born  at  Naples.  My  parents,  though  of  noble  rank,  were 
limited  in  fortune,  or  rather,  my  father  was  ostentatious  beyond 
his  means,  and  expended  so  much  on  his  palace,  his  equipage,  and 
his  retinue,  that  he  was  continually  straitened  in  his  pecuniary 
circumstances.  I  was  a  younger  son,  and  looked  upon  with  in 
difference  by  my  father,  who,  from  a  principle  of  family  pride, 
wished  to  leave  all  his  property  to  my  elder  brother.  I  showed, 
when  quite  a  child,  an  extreme  sensibility.  Every  thing  affected 
me  violently.  While  yet  an  infant  in  my  mother's  arms,  and  \ 
before  I  had  learnt  to  talk,  I  could  be  wrought  upon  to  a  wonder-  • 
ful  degree  of  anguish  or  delight  by  the  power  of  music.  As  I  I 
grew  older,  my  feelings  remained  equally  acute,  and  I  was  easily 
transported  into  paroxysms  of  pleasure  or  rage.  It  was  the 
amusement  of  my  relations  and  of  the  domestics  to  play  upon 
this  irritable  temperament.  I  was  moved  to  tears,  tickled  to 
laughter,  provoked  to  fury,  for  the  entertainment  of  company, 
who  were  amused  by  such  a  tempest  of  mighty  passion  in  a  pigmy 
frame — they  little  thought,  or  perhaps  little  heeded  the  dangerous 
sensibilities  they  were  fostering.  I  thus  became  a  little  creature 
of  passion  before  reason  was  developed.  In  a  short  time  I  grew 
too  old  to  be  a  plaything,  and  then  I  became  a  torment.  The 
tricks  and  passions  I  had  been  teased  into  became  irksome, 
and  I  was  disliked  by  my  teachers  for  the  very  lessons  they  had 


84  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


taught  me.  My  mother  died ;  and  my  power  as  a  spoiled  child 
was  at  an  end.  There  was  no  longer  any  necessity  to  humor  or 
tolerate  me,  for  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  it,  as  I  was  no 
favorite  of  my  father.  I  therefore  experienced  the  fate  of  a 
spoiled  child  in  such  a  situation,  and  was  neglected,  or  noticed 
only  to  be  crossed  and  contradicted.  Such  was  the  early  treat 
ment  of  a  heart,  which,  if  I  can  judge  of  it  at  all,  was  naturally 
disposed  to  the  extremes  of  tenderness  and  affection. 

My  father,  as  I  have  already  said,  never  liked  me — in  fact, 
he  never  understood  me  ;  he  looked  upon  me  as  wilful  and  way 
ward,  as  deficient  in  natural  affection. — It  was  the  stateliness  of 
his  own  manner,  the  loftiness  and  grandeur  of  his  own  look,  which 
had  repelled  me  from  his  arms.  I  always  pictured  him  to  myself 
as  I  had  seen  him,  clad  in  his  senatorial  robes,  rustling  with  pomp 
and  pride.  The  magnificence  of  his  person  daunted  my  young 
imagination.  I  could  never  approach  him  with  the  confiding 
affection  of  a  child. 

My  father's  feelings  were  wrapped  up  in  my  elder  brother. 
He  wtis  to  be  the  inheritor  of  the  family  title  and  the  family  dignity, 
and  every  thing  was  sacrificed  to  him — I,  as  well  as  every  thing 
else.  It  was  determined  to  devote  me  to  the  church,  that  so  my 
humors  and  myself  might  be  removed  out  of  the  way,  either  of 
tasking  my  father's  time  and  trouble,  or  interfering  with  the  inter 
ests  of  my  brother.  At  an  early  age,  therefore,  before  my  mind 
had  dawned  upon  the  world  and  its  delights,  or  known  any  thing 
of  it  beyond  the  precincts  of  my  father's  palace,  I  was  sent  to  a 
convent,  the  superior  of  which  was  my  uncle,  and  was  confided 
entirely  to  his  care. 

My  uncle  was  a  man  totally  estranged  from  the  world :  he 
had  never  relished,  for  he  had  never  tasted  its  pleasures ;  and  he 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN  85 


regarded  rigid  self-denial  as  the  great  basis  of  Christian  virtue. 
He  considered  every  one's  temperament  like  his  own  ;  or  at  least 
he  made  them  conform  to  it.  His  character  and  habits  had  an 
influence  over  the  fraternity  of  which  he  was  superior  —  a  more 
gloomy,  saturnine  set  of  beings  were  never  assembled  together. 
The  convent,  too,  was  calculated  to  awaken  sad  and  solitary 
thoughts.  It  was  situated  in  a  gloomy  gorge  of  those  mountains 
away  south  of  Vesuvius.  All  distant  views  were  shut  out  by  * 
sterile  volcanic  heights.  A  mountain-stream  raved  beneath  its 
walls,  and  eagles  screamed  about  its  turrets. 

I  had  been  sent  to  this  place  at  so  tender  an  age  as  soon  tp 


lose  all  distinct  recollection  of  the  scenes  I  had  left  behind, 
my  mind  expanded,  therefore,  it  formed  its  idea  of  the  world 
from  the  convent  and  its  vicinity,  and  a  dreary  world  it  appeared 
to  me.  An  early  tinge  of  melancholy  was  thus  infused  into  my 
character  ;  and  the  dismal  stories  of  the  monks,  about  devils  and 
evil  spirits,  with  which  they  affrighted  my  young  imagination, 
gave  me  a  tendency  to  superstition  which  I  could  never  effectually 
shake  off.  They  took  the  same  delight  to  work  upon  my  ardent 
feelings,  that  had  been  so  mischievously  executed  by  my  father's 
household.  I  can  recollect  the  horrors  with  which  they  fed  my 
heated  fancy  during  an  eruption  of  Vesuvius.  We  were  distant 
from  that  volcano,  with  mountains  between  us  ;  but  its  convulsive 
throes  shook  the  solid  foundations  of  nature.  Earthquakes 
threatened  to  topple  down  our  convent  towers.  A  lurid,  baleful 
light  hung  in  the  heavens  at  night,  and  showers  of  ashes,  borne 
by  the  wind,  fell  in  our  narrow  valley.  The  monks  talked  of  the 
earth  being  honey-combed  beneath  us  ;  of  streams  of  molten  lava 
raging  through  its  veins  ;  of  caverns  of  sulphurous  flames  roaring 
in  the  centre,  the  abodes  of  demons  and  the  damned  ;  of  fiery 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


gulfs  ready  to  yawn  beneath  our  feet.  All  these  tales  were  told  to 
the  doleful  accompaniment  of  the  mountain's  thunders,  whose  low 
bellowing  made  the  walls  of  our  convent  vibrate. 

One  of  the  monks  had  been  a  painter,  but  had  retired  from 
the  world,  and  embraced  this  dismal  life  in  expiation  of  some 
crime.  He  was  a  melancholy  man,  who  pursued  his  art  in  the 
solitude  of  his  cell,  but  made  it  a  source  of  penance  to  him.  His 
employment  was  to  portray,  either  on  canvas  or  in  waxen  models, 
the  human  face  and  human  form,  in  the  agonies  of  death,  and  in 
all  the  stages  of  dissolution  and  decay.  The  fearful  mysteries 
of  the  charnel-house  were  unfolded  in  his  labors ;  the  loathsome 
banquet  of  the  beetle  and  the  worm.  I  turn  with  shuddering 
even  from  the  recollection  of  his  works,  yet,  at  the  time,  my 
strong  but  ill-directed  imagination  seized  with  ardor  upon  his  in 
structions  in  his  art.  Any  thing  was  a  variety  from  the  dry 
studies  and  monotonous  duties  of  the  cloister.  In  a  little  while  I 
became  expert  with  my  pencil,  and  my  gloomy  productions  were 
thought  worthy  of  decorating  some  of  the  altars  of  the  chapel. 

In  this  dismal  way  was  a  creature  of  feeling  and  fancy  brought 
up.  Every  thing  genial  and  amiable  in  my  nature  was  repressed, 
and  nothing  brought  out  but  what  was  unprofitable  and  ungracious. 
I  was  ardent  in  my  temperament ;  quick,  mercurial,  impetuous, 
formed  to  be  a  creature  all  love  and  adoration  ;  but  a  leaden 
hand  was  laid  on  all  my  finer  qualities.  I  was  taught  nothing  but 
fear  and  hatred.  I  hated  my  uncle.  I  hated  the  monks.  I  hated 
the  convent  in  which  I  was  immured.  I  hated  the  world ;  and  I 
almost  hated  myself  for  being,  as  I  supposed,  so  hating  and  hate 
ful  an  animal. 

When  I  had  nearly  attained  the  age  of  sixteen,  I  was  suffered, 
on  one  occasion,  to  accompany  one  of  the  brethren  on  a  mission 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  87 


to  a  distant  part  of  the  country.  We  soon  left  behind  us  the 
gloomy  valley  in  which  I  had  been  pent  up  for  so  many  years, 
and  after  a  short  journey  among  the  mountains,  emerged  upon 
the  voluptuous  landscape  that  spreads  itself  about  the  Bay  of  Na 
ples.  Heavens !  how  transported  was  I,  when  I  stretched  my 
gaze  over  a  vast  reach  of  delicious  sunny  country,  gay  with 
groves  and  vineyards :  with  Vesuvius  rearing  its  forked  summit 
to  my  right ;  the  blue  Mediterranean  to  my  left,  with  its  en 
chanting  coast,  studded  with  shining  towns  and  sumptuous  villas ; 
and  Naples,  my  native  Naples,  gleaming  far,  far  in  the  distance. 

Good  God  !  was  this  the  lovely  world  from  which  I  had  been 
excluded  !  I  had  reached  that  age  when  the  sensibilities  are  in 
all  their  bloom  and  freshness.  Mine  had  been  checked  and 
chilled.  They  now  burst  forth  with  the  suddenness  of  a  re 
tarded  spring-time.  My  heart,  hitherto  unnaturally  shrunk  up, 
expanded  into  a  riot  of  vague  but  delicious  emotions.  The 
beauty  of  nature  intoxicated — bewildered  me.  The  song  of 
the  peasants ;  their  cheerful  looks  ;  their  happy  avocations  ;  the 
picturesque  gayety  of  their  dresses ;  their  rustic  music ;  their 
dances ;  all  broke  upon  me  like  witchcraft.  My  soul  responded 
to  the  music,  my  heart  danced  in  my  bosom.  All  the  men  ap 
peared  amiable,  all  the  women  lovely. 

I  returned  to  the  convent,  that  is  to  say,  my  body  returned, 
but  my  heart  and  soul  never  entered  there  again.  I  could  not 
forget  this  glimpse  of  a  beautiful  and  a  happy  world — a  world  so 
suited  to  my  natural  character.  I  had  felt  so  happy  while  in  it ; 
so  different  a  being  from  what  I  felt  myself  when  in  the  convent 
— that  tomb  of  the  living.  I  contrasted  the  countenances  of  the 
beings  I  had  seen,  full  of  fire  and  freshness  and  enjoyment,  with 
the  pallid,  leaden,  lack-lustre  visages  of  the  monks ;  the  dance 


88  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


with  the  droning  chant  of  the  chapel.  I  had  before  found  the  ex 
ercises  of  the  cloister  wearisome,  they  now  became  intolerable. 
The  dull  round  of  duties  wore  away  my  spirit ;  my  nerves  be 
came  irritated  by  the  fretful  tinkling  of  the  convent-bell,  ever 
more  dinging  among  the  mountain  echoes,  evermore  calling  me 
from  my  repose  at  night,  my  pencil  by  day,  to  attend  to  some 
tedious  and  mechanical  ceremony  of  devotion. 

I  was  not  of  a  nature  to  meditate  long  without  putting  my 
thoughts  into  action.  My  spirit  had  been  suddenly  aroused,  and 
was  now  all  awake  within  me.  I  watched  an  opportunity,  fled 
from  the  convent,  and  made  my  way  on  foot  to  Naples.  As  I 
entered  its  gay  and  crowded  streets,  and  beheld  the  variety  and 
stir  of  life  around  me,  the  luxury  of  palaces,  the  splendor  of 
equipages,  and  the  pantomimic  animation  of  the  motley  populace, 
I  seemed  as  if  awakened  to  a  world  of  enchantment,  and  solemnly 
vowed  that  nothing  should  force  me  back  to  the  monotony  of  the 
cloister. 

I  had  to  inquire  my  way  to  my  father's  palace,  for  I  had  been 
so  young  on  leaving  it  that  I  knew  not  its  situation.  I  found 
some  difficulty  in  getting  admitted  to  my  father's  presence ;  for 
the  domestics  scarcely  knew  that  there  was  such  a  being  as  myself 
in  existence,  and  my  monastic  dress  did  not  operate  in  my  favor. 
Even  my  father  entertained  no  recollection  of  my  person.  I 
told  him  my  name,  threw  myself  at  his  feet,  implored  his  for 
giveness,  and  entreated  that  I  might  not  be  sent  back  to  the 
convent. 

He  received  me  with  the  condescension  of  a  patron,  rather 
than  the  fondness  of  a  parent ;  listened  patiently,  but  coldly,  to 
my  tale  of  monastic  grievances  and  disgusts,  and  promised  toj 
think  what  else  could  be  done  for  me.  This  coldness  blighted 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN. 


and  drove  back  all  the  frank  affection  of  my  nature,  that  was 
ready  to  spring  forth  at  the  least  warmth  of  parental  kindness. 
All  my  early  feelings  towards  my  father  revived.  I  again  looked 
up  to  him  as  the  stately  magnificent  being  that  had  daunted  my 
childish  imagination,  and  felt  as  if  I  had  no  pretensions  to  his 
sympathies.  My  brother  engrossed  all  his  care  and  love  ;  he  in 
herited  his  nature,  and  carried  himself  towards  me  with  a  pro 
tecting  rather  than  a  fraternal  air.  It  wounded  my  pride,  which 
was  great.  I  could  brook  condescension  from  my  father,  for  I 
looked  up  to  him  with  awe,  as  a  superior  being ;  but  I  could  not 
brook  patronage  from  a  brother,  who  I  felt  was  intellectually  my 
inferior.  The  servants  perceived  that  I  was  an  unwelcome  in 
truder  in  the  paternal  mansion,  and,  menial-like,  they  treated  me 
with  neglect.  Thus  baffled  at  every  point,  my  affections  out 
raged  wherever  they  would  attach  themselves,  I  became  sullen, 
silent,  and  desponding.  My  feelings,  driven  back  upon  myself, 
entered  and  preyed  upon  my  own  heart.  I  remained  for  some 
days  an  unwelcome  guest  rather  than  a  restored  son  in  my  father's 
house.  I  was  doomed  never  to  be  properly  known  there.  I  was 
made,  by  wrong  treatment,  strange  even  to  myself,  and  they 
judged  of  me  from  my  strangeness. 

I  was  startled  one  day  at  the  sight  of  one  of  the  monks  of  my 
convent  gliding  out  of  my  father's  room.  He  saw  me,  but  pre 
tended  not  to  notice  me,  and  this  very  hypocrisy  made  me  sus 
pect  something.  I  had  become  sore  and  susceptible  in  my  feelings^ 
every  thing  inflicted  a  wound  on  them.  In  this  state  of  mind,  I 
was  treated  with  marked  disrespect  by  a  pampered  minion,  the 
favorite  servant  of  my  father.  All  the  pride  and  passion  of  my 
nature  rose  in  an  instant,  and  I  struck  him  to  the  earth.  My 
father  was  passing  by  ;  he  stopped  not  to  inquire  the  reason,  nor 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


indeed  could  be  read  the  long  course  of  mental  sufferings  which 
were  the  real  cause.  He  rebuked  me  with  anger  and  scorn  ; 
summoning  all  the  haughtiness  of  his  nature  and  grandeur  of  his 
look  to  give  weight  to  the  contumely  with  which  he  treated  me.  I 
felt  that  I  had  not  deserved  it.  I  felt  that  I  was  not  appreciated. 
I  felt  that  I  had  that  within  me  which  merited  better  treatment. 
My  heart  swelled  against  a  father's  injustice.  I  broke  through 
my  habitual  awe  of  him — I  replied  to  him  with  impatience.  My 
hot  spirit  flushed  in  my  cheek  and  kindled  in  my  eye ;  but  my 
sensitive  heart  swelled  as  quickly,  and  before  I  had  half  vented 
my  passion,  I  felt  it  suffocated  and  quenched  in  my  tears.  My 
father  was  astonished  and  incensed  at  this  turning  of  the  worm, 
and  ordered  me  to  my  chamber.  I  retired  in  silence,  choking 
with  contending  emotions. 

I  had  not  been  long  there  when  I  overheard  voices  in  an  ad 
joining  apartment.  It  was  a  consultation  between  my  father  and 
the  monk,  about  the  means  of  getting  me  back  quietly  to  the  con 
vent.  My  resolution  was  taken.  I  had  no  longer  a  home  nor  a 
father.  That  very  night  I  left  the  paternal  roof.  I  got  on  board 
a  vessel  about  making  sail  from  the  harbor,  and  abandoned  my 
self  to  the  wide  world.  No  matter  to  what  port  she  steered  ;  any 
part  of  so  beautiful  a  world  was  better  than  my  convent.  No 
matter  where  I  was  cast  by  fortune ;  any  place  would  be  more  a 
home  to  me  than  the  home  I  had  left  behind.  The  vessel  was 
bound  to  Genoa.  We  arrived  there  after  a  voyage  of  a  few 
days. 

As  I  entered  the  harbor  between  the  moles  which  embrace 
it,  and  beheld  the  amphitheatre  of  palaces,  and  churches,  and 
splendid  gardens,  rising  one  aboVe  another,  I  felt  at  once  its  title 
to  the  appellation  of  Genoa  the  Superb.  I  landed  on  the  mole 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  91 


an  utter  stranger,  without  knowing  what  to  do,  or  whither  to 
direct  my  steps.  No  matter :  I  was  released  from  the  thraldom 
of  the  convent  and  the  humiliations  of  home.  When  I  traversed 
the  Strada  Balbi  and  the  Strada  Nuova,  those  streets  of  palaces, 
and  gazed  at  the  wonders  of  architecture  around  me  ;  when  I 
wandered  at  close  of  day  amid  a  gay  throng  of  the  brilliant  and 
the  beautiful,  through  the  green  alleys  of  the  Aqua  Verde,  or 
among  the  colonnades  and  terraces  of  the  magnificent  Doria  gar 
dens  ;  I  thought  it  impossible  to  be  ever  otherwise  than  happy  in 
Genoa. 

A  few  days  sufficed  to  show  me  my  mistake.  My  scanty 
purse  was  exhausted,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  experi 
enced  the  sordid  distress  of  penury.  I  had  never  known  the 
want  of  money,  and  had  never  adverted  to  the  possibility  of  such 
an  evil.  I  was  ignorant  of  the  world  and  all  its  ways  ;  and  when 
first  the  idea  of  destitution  came  over  my  mind,  its  effect  was 
withering.  I  was  wandering  penniless  through  the  streets  which 
no  longer  delighted  my  eyes,  when  chance  led  my  steps  into  the 
magnificent  church  of  the  Annunciata. 

A  celebrated  painter  of  the  day  was  at  that  moment  superin 
tending  the  placing  of  one  of  his  pictures  over  an  altar.  The 
proficiency  which  I  had  acquired  in  his  art  during  my  residence 
in  the  convent,  had  made  me  an  enthusiastic  amateur.  I  was 
struck,  at  the  first  glance,  with  the  painting.  It  was  the  face  of 
a  Madonna.  So  innocent,  so  lovely,  such  a  divine  expression  of 
maternal  tenderness !  I  lost,  for  the  moment,  all  recollection  of 
myself  in  the  enthusiasm  of  my  art.  I  clasped  my  hands  to 
gether,  and  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  delight.  The  painter  per 
ceived  my  emotion.  He  was  flattered  and  gratified  by  it.  My 
air  and  manner  pleased  him,  and  he  accosted  me.  I  felt  too 


92  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


much  the  want  of  friendship  to  repel  the  advances  of  a  stranger ; 
and  there  was  something  in  this  one  so  benevolent  and  winning, 
that  in  a  moment  he  gained  my  confidence. 

I  told  him  my  story  and  my  situation,  concealing  only  my 
name  and  rank.  He  appeared  strongly  interested  by  my  re 
cital,  invited  me  to  his  house,  and  from  that  time  I  became  his 
favorite  pupil.  He  thought  he  perceived  in  me  extraordinary 
talents  for  the  art,  and  his  encomiums  awakened  all  my  ardor. 
What  a  blissful  period  of  my  existence  was  it  that  I  passed  be 
neath  his  roof !  Another  being  seemed  created  within  me ;  or 
rather,  all  that  was  amiable  and  excellent  was  drawn  out.  I  was 
as  recluse  as  ever  I  had  been  at  the  convent,  but  how  different 
was  my  seclusion  !  My  time  was  spent  in  storing  my  mind  with 
lofty  and  poetical  ideas  ;  in  meditating  on  all  that  was  striking 
and  noble  in  history  and  fiction  ;  in  studying  and  tracing  all  that 
was  sublime  and  beautiful  in  nature.  I  was  always  a  visionary, 
imaginative  being,  but  now  my  reveries  and  imaginings  all  ele 
vated  me  to  rapture.  I  looked  up  to  my  master  as  to  a  benevo 
lent  genius  that  had  opened  to  me  a  region  of  enchantment.  He 
was  not  a  native  of  Genoa,  but  had  been  drawn  thither  by  the 
solicitations  of  several  of  the  nobility,  and  had  resided  there  but 
a  few  years,  for  the  completion  of  certain  works.  His  health 
was  delicate,  and  he  had  to  confide  much  of  the  filling  up  of  his 
designs  to  the  pencils  of  his  scholars.  He  considered  me  as  par 
ticularly  happy  in  delineating  the  human  countenance  ;  in  seizing 
upon  characteristic  though  fleeting  expressions,  and  fixing  them 
powerfully  upon  my  canvas.  I  was  employed  continually,  there 
fore,  in  sketching  faces,  and  often,  when  some  particular  grace  or 
beauty  of  expression  was  wanted  in  a  countenance,  it  was  intrusted 
to  my  pencil.  My  benefactor  was  fond  of  bringing  me  forward  ; 


THE   YOUNG  ITALIAN. 


and  partly,  perhaps,  through  my  actual  skill,  and  partly  through 
his  partial  praises,  I  began  to  be  noted  for  the  expressions  of  my 
countenances. 

Among  the  various  works  which  he  had  undertaken,  was  an 
historical  piece  for  one  of  the  palaces  of  Genoa,  in  which  were 
to  be  introduced  the  likenesses  of  several  of  the  family.  Among 
these  was  one  intrusted  to  my  pencil.  It  was  that  of  a  young 
girl,  as  yet  in  a  convent  for  her  education.  She  came  out  for  the 
purpose  of  sitting  for  the  picture.  I  first  saw  her  in  an  apart 
ment  of  one  of  the  sumptuous  palaces  of  Genoa.  She  stood  be 
fore  a  casement  that  looked  out  upon  the  bay  ;  a  stream  of  vernal 
sunshine  fell  upon  her,  and  shed  a  kind  of  glory  round  her,  as  it 
lit  up  the  rich  crimson  chamber.  She  was  but  sixteen  years  of 
age — and  oh,  how  lovely  !  The  scene  broke  upon  me  like  a  mere 
vision  of  spring  and  youth  and  beauty.  I  could  have  fallen  down 
and  worshipped  her.  She  was  like  one  of  those  fictions  of  poets 
and  painters,  when  they  would  express  the  beau  ideal  that  haunts 
their  minds  with  shapes  of  indescribable  perfection.  I  was  per 
mitted  to  sketch  her  countenance  in  various  positions,  and  I  fondly 
protracted  the  study  that  was  undoing  me.  The  more  I  gazed 
on  her,  the  more  I  became  enamoured  ;  there  was  something 
almost  painful  in  my  intense  admiration.  I  was  but  nineteen 
years  of  age,  shy,  diffident,  and  inexperienced.  I  was  treated 
with  attention  by  her  mother  ;  for  my  youth  and  my  enthusiasm 
in  my  art  had  won  favor  for  me  ;  and  I  am  inclined  to  think 
something  in  my  air  and  manner  inspired  interest  and  respect. 
Still  the  kindness  with  which  I  was  treated  could  not  dispel  the 
embarrassment  into  which  my  own  imagination  threw  me  when 
in  presence  of  this  lovely  being.  It  elevated  her  into  something 
almost  more  than  mortal.  She  seemed  too  exquisite  for  earthly 


94  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


use ;  too  delicate  and  exalted  for  human  attainment.  As  I  sat 
tracing  her  charms  on  my  canvas,  with  my  eyes  occasionally 
riveted  on  her  features,  I  drank  in  delicious  poison  that  made  me 
giddy.  My  heart  alternately  gushed  with  tenderness,  and  ached 
with  despair.  Now  I  became  more  than  ever  sensible  of  the  vio 
lent  fires  that  had  lain  dormant  at  the  bottom  of  my  soul.  You 
who  are  born  in  a  more  temperate  climate,  and  under  a  cooler 
sky,  have  little  idea  of  the  violence  of  passion  in  our  southern 
bosoms. 

A  few  days  finished  my  task.  Bianca  returned  to  her  con 
vent,  but  her  image  remained  indelibly  impressed  upon  my  heart. 
It  dwelt  in  my  imagination  ;  it  became  my  pervading  idea  of 
beauty.  It  had  an  effect  even  upon  my  pencil.  I  became  noted 
for  my  felicity  in  depicting  female  loveliness  :  it  was  but  because 
I  multiplied  the  image  of  Bianca.  I  soothed  and  yet  fed  my 
fancy  by  introducing  her  in  all  the  productions  of  my  master.  I 
have  stood,  with  delight,  in  one  of  the  chapels  of  the  Annunciata, 
and  heard  the  crowd  extol  the  seraphic  beauty  of  a  saint  which 
I  had  painted.  I  have  seen  them  bow  down  in  adoration  before 
the  painting ;  they  were  bowing  before  the  loveliness  of  Bianca. 

I  existed  in  this  kind  of  dream,  I  might  almost  say  delirium, 
for  upwards  of  a  year.  Such  is  the  tenacity  of  my  imagination, 
that  the  image  formed  in  it  continued  in  all  its  power  and  fresh 
ness.  Indeed,  I  was  a  solitary,  meditative  being,  much  given  to 
reverie,  and  apt  to  foster  ideas  which  had  once  taken  strong  pos 
session  of  me.  I  was  roused  from  this  fond,  melancholy,  delicious 
dream  by  the  death  of  my  worthy  benefactor.  I  cannot  describe 
the  pangs  his  death  occasioned  me.  It  left  me  alone,  and  almost 
broken-hearted.  He  bequeathed  to  me  his  little  property,  which, ; 
from  the  liberality  of  his  disposition,  and  his  expensive  style  of 


THE   YOUNG  ITALIAN.  95 


living,  was  indeed  but  small ;  and  he  most  particularly  recom 
mended  me,  in  dying,  to  the  protection  of  a  nobleman  who  had 
been  his  patron. 

The  latter  was  a  man  who  passed  for  munificent.  He  was  a 
lover  and  an  encourager  of  the  arts,  and  evidently  wished  to  be 
thought  so.  He  fancied  he  saw  in  me  indications  of  future  ex 
cellence  ;  my  pencil  had  already  attracted  attention ;  he  took  me 
at  once  under  his  protection.  Seeing  that  I  was  overwhelmed 
with  grief,  and  incapable  of  exerting  myself  in  the  mansion  of 
my  late  benefactor,  he  invited  me  to  sojourn  for  a  time  at  a  villa 
which  he  possessed  on  the  border  of  the  sea,  in  the  picturesque 
neighborhood  of  Sestri  di  Ponente. 

I  found  at  the  villa  the  count's  only  son,  Filippo.  He  was 
nearly  of  my  age  ;  prepossessing  in  his  appearance,  and  fascinat 
ing  in  his  manners ;  he  attached  himself  to  me,  and  seemed  to 
court  my  good  opinion.  I  thought  there  was  something  of  pro 
fession  in  his  kindness,  and  of  caprice  in  his  disposition ;  but  I 
had  nothing  else  near  me  to  attach  myself  to,  and  my  heart  felt 
the  need  of  something  to  repose  upon.  /  His  education  had  been 
neglected ;  he  looked  upon  me  as  his  superior  in  mental  powers 
and  acquirements,  and  tacitly  acknowledged  my  superiority.  I 
felt  that  I  was  his  equal  in  birth,  and  that  gave  independence  to 
my  manners,  which  had  its  effect.  The  caprice  and  tyranny  I 
saw  sometimes  exercised  on  others,  over  whom  he  had  power, 
were  never  manifested  towards  me.  We  became  intimate  friends 
and  frequent  companions.  Still  I  loved  to  be  alone,  and  to  in 
dulge  in  the  reveries  of  my  own  imagination  among  the  scenery 
by  which  I  was  surrounded. 

The  villa  commanded  a  wide  view  of  the  Mediterranean,  and 
of  the  picturesque  Ligurian  coast.  It  stood  alone  in  the  midst 


96  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


of  ornamented  grounds,  finely  decorated  with  statues  and  foun 
tains,  and  laid  out  into  groves  and  alleys  and  shady  lawns. 
Every  thing  was  assembled  here  that  could  gratify  the  taste,  or 
agreeably  occupy  the  mind.  Soothed  by  the  tranquillity  of  this 
elegant  retreat,  the  turbulence  of  my  feelings  gradually  subsided, 
and  blending  with  the  romantic  spell  which  still  reigned  over  my 
imagination,  produced  a  soft,  voluptuous  melancholy. 

I  had  not  been  long  under  the  roof  of  the  count,  when  our 
solitude  was  enlivened  by  another  inhabitant.  It  was  a  daughter 
of  a  relative  of  the  count,  who  had  lately  died  in  reduced  circum 
stances,  bequeathing  this  only  child  to  his  protection.  I  had 
heard  much  of  her  beauty  from  Filippo,  but  my  fancy  had  become 
so  engrossed  by  one  idea  of  beauty,  as  not  to  admit  of  any  other. 
We  were  in  the  central  saloon  of  the  villa  when  she  arrived. 
She  was  still  in  mourning,  and  approached,  leaning  on  the  count's 
arm.  As  they  ascended  the  marble  portico,  I  was  struck  by  the 
elegance  of  her  figure  and  movement,  by  the  grace  with  which 
the  mezzarO)  the  bewitching  vail  of  Genoa,  was  folded  about  her 
slender  form.  They  entered.  Heavens  !  what  was  my  surprise 
when  I  beheld  Bianca  before  me  !  It  was  herself;  pale  with  grief, 
but  still  more  matured  in  loveliness  than  when  I  had  last  beheld 
her.  The  time  that  had  elapsed  had  developed  the  graces  of  her 
person,  and  the  sorrow  she  had  undergone  had  diffused  over  her 
countenance  an  irresistible  tenderness. 

She  blushed  and  trembled  at  seeing  me,  and  tears  rushed  into 
her  eyes,  for  she  remembered  in  whose  company  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  behold  me.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  express  what 
were  my  emotions.  By  degrees  I  overcame  the  extreme  shyness 
that  had  formerly  paralyzed  me  in  her  presence.  We  were,' 
drawn  together  by  sympathy  of  situation.  We  had  each  lost  our 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  97 


best  friend  in  the  world ;  we  were  each,  in  some  measure,  thrown 
upon  the  kindness  of  others.  When  I  came  to  know  her  intellec 
tually,  all  my  ideal  picturings  of  her  were  confirmed.  Her  new 
ness  to  the  world,  her  delightful  susceptibility  to  every  thing  beau 
tiful  and  agreeable  in  nature,  reminded  me  of  my  own  emotions 
when  first  I  escaped  from  the  convent.  Her  rectitude  of  think 
ing  delighted  my  judgment ;  the  sweetness  of  her  nature  wrapped 
itself  round  my  heart ;  and  then  her  young,  and  tender,  and  bud 
ding  loveliness,  sent  a  delicious  madness  to  my  brain. 

I  gazed  upon  her  with  a  kind  of  idolatry,  as  something  more 
than  mortal ;  and  I  felt  humiliated  at  the  idea  of  my  comparative 
unworthiness.  Yet  she  was  mortal ;  and  one  of  mortality's  most 
susceptible  and  loving  compounds ; — for  she  loved  me  ! 

How  first  I  discovered  the  transporting  truth  I  cannot  recol 
lect.  I  believe  it  stole  upon  me  by  degrees  as  a  wonder  past  hope 
or  belief.  We  were  both  at  such  a  tender  and  loving  age ;  in 
constant  intercourse  with  each  other  ;  mingling  in  the  same  elegant 
pursuits ; — for  music,  poetry,  and  painting,  were  our  mutual  de 
lights  ;  and  we  were  almost  separated  from  society  among  lovely 
and  romantic  scenery.  Is  it  strange  that  two  young  hearts,  thus 
brought  together,  should  readily  twine  round  each  other  ? 

Oh,  gods  !  what  a  dream — a  transient  dream  of  unalloyed  de 
light,  then  passed  over  my  soul !  then  it  was  that  the  world 
around  me  was  indeed  a  paradise ;  for  I  had  woman — lovely,  de 
licious  woman,  to  share  it  with  me !  How  often  have  I  rambled 
along  the  picturesque  shores  of  Sestri,  or  climbed  its  wild  moun 
tains,  with  the  coast  gemmed  with  villas,  and  the  blue  sea  far 
below  me,  and  the  slender  Faro  of  Genoa  on  its  romantic  pro 
montory  in  the  distance  ;  arm  as  I  sustained  the  faltering  steps  of 
Bianca,  have  thought  there  could  no  unhappiness  enter  into 

5 


98  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


so  beautiful  a  world !  How  often  have  we  listened  together  to 
the  nightingale,  as  it  poured  forth  its  rich  notes  among  the  moon 
light  bowers  of  the  garden,  and  have  wondered  that  poets  could 
ever  have  fancied  any  thing  melancholy  in  its  song !  Why,  oh 
why  is  this  budding  season  of  life  and  tenderness  so  transient ! 
why  is  this  rosy  cloud  of  love,  that  sheds  such  a  glow  over  the 
morning  of  our  days,  so  prone  to  brew  up  into  the  whirlwind  and 
the  storm ! 

I  was  the  first  to  awaken  from  this  blissful  delirium  of  the 
affections.  I  had  gained  Bianca's  heart,  what  was  I  to  do  with 
it  ?  I  had  no  wealth  nor  prospect  to  entitle  me  to  her  hand  ;  was 
I  to  take  advantage  of  her  ignorance  of  the  world,  of  her  confid 
ing  affection,  and  draw  her  down  to  my  own  poverty  ?  Was  this 
requiting  the  hospitality  of  the  count  ?  was  this  requiting  the  love 
of  Bianca? 

Now  first  I  began  to  feel  that  even  successful  love  may  have 
its  bitterness.  A  corroding  care  gathered  about  my  heart.  I 
moved  about  the  palace  like  a  guilty  being.  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
abused  its  hospitality,  as  if  I  were  a  thief  within  its  walls.  I 
could  no  longer  look  with  unembarrassed  mien  in  the  countenance 
of  the  count.  I  accused  myself  of  perfidy  to  him,  and  I  thought 
he  read  it  in  my  looks,  and  began  to  distrust  and  despise  me. 
His  manner  had  always  been  ostentatious  and  condescending ;  it 
now  appeared  cold  and  haughty.  Filippo,  too,  became  reserved 
and  distant ;  or  at  least  I  suspected  him  to  be  so.  Heavens  !  was 
this  the  mere  coinage  of  my  brain  ?  Was  I  to  become  suspicious 
of  all  the  world?  A  poor,  surmising  wretch;  watching  looks 
and  gestures ;  and  torturing  myself  with  misconstructions  ?  Or, 
if  true,  was  I  to  remain  beneath  a  roof  where  I  was  merely  tole 
rated,  and  linger  there  on  sufferance  ?  "  This  is  not  to  be  en- 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN. 


dured !"  exclaimed  I :  "  I  will  tear  myself  from  this  state  of  self- 
abasement — I  will  break  through  this  fascination,  and  fly — Fly ! 
— Whither  ? — from  the  world  ?  for  where  is  the  world  when  I 
leave  Bianca  behind  me  ?" 

My  spirit  was  naturally  proud,  and  swelled  within  me  at  the 
idea  of  being  looked  upon  with  contumely.  Many  times  I  was 
on  the  point  of  declaring  my  family  and  rank,  and  asserting  my 
equality  in  the  presence  of  Bianca,  when  I  thought  her  relations 
assumed  an  air  of  superiority.  But  the  feeling  was  transient.  I 
considered  myself  discarded  and  condemned  by  my  family ;  and 
had  solemnly  vowed  never  to  own  relationship  to  them  until  they 
themselves  should  claim  it. 

The  struggle  of  my  mind  preyed  upon  my  happiness  and  my 
health.  It  seemed  as  if  the  uncertainty  of  being  loved  would  be 
less  intolerable  than  thus  to  be  assured  of  it,  and  yet  not  dare  to 
enjoy  the  conviction.  I  was  no  longer  the  enraptured  admirer 
of  Bianca  ;  I  no  longer  hung  in  ecstasy  on  the  tones  of  her  voice, 
nor  drank  in  with  insatiate  gaze  the  beauty  of  her  countenance. 
Her  very  smiles  ceased  to  delight  me,  for  I  felt  culpable  in  having 
won  them. 

She  could  not  but  be  sensible  of  the  change  in  me,  and 
inquired  the  cause  with  her  usual  frankness  and  simplicity.  I 
could  not  evade  the  inquiry,  for  my  heart  was  full  to  aching. 
I  told  her  all  the  conflict  of  my  soul ;  my  devouring  passion,  my 
bitter  self-upbraiding.  "  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  am  unworthy  of  you. 
I  am  an  offcast  from  my  family — a  wanderer — a  nameless,  home 
less  wanderer — with  nothing  but  poverty  for  my  portion  ;  and  yet 
I  have  dared  to  love  you — have  dared  to  aspire  to  your  love." 

My  agitation  moved  her  to  tears,  but  she  saw  nothing  in  my 
situation  so  hopeless  as  I  had  depicted  it.  Brought  up  in  a  con- 


100  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


vent,  she  knew  nothing  of  the  world — its  wants — its  cares :  and 
indeed  what  woman  is  a  worldly  casuist  in  matters  of  the  heart  ? 
Nay  more,  she  kindled  into  a  sweet  enthusiasm  when  she  spoke 
of  my  fortunes  and  myself.  We  had  dwelt  together  on  the  works 
of  the  famous  masters.  I  had  related  to  her  their  histories ;  the 
high  reputation,  the  influence,  the  magnificence  to  which  they  had 
attained.  The  companions  of  princes,  the  favorites  of  kings,  the 
pride  and  boast  of  nations.  All  this  she  applied  to  me.  Her  love 
saw  nothing  in  all  their  great  productions  that  I  was  not  able  to 
achieve  ;  and  when  I  beheld  the  lovely  creature  glow  with  fervor, 
and  her  whole  countenance  radiant  with  visions  of  my  glory,  I 
was  snatched  up  for  the  moment  into  the  heaven  of  her  own 
imagination. 

I  am  dwelling  too  long  upon  this  part  of  my  story ;  yet  I  can 
not  help  lingering  over  a  period  of  my  life,  on  which,  with  all  its 
cares  and  conflicts,  I  look  back  with  fondness,  for  as  yet  my  soul 
was  unstained  by  a  crime.  I  do  not  know  what  might  have  been 
the  result  of  this  struggle  between  pride,  delicacy,  and  passion, 
had  I  not  read  in  a  Neapolitan  gazette,  an  account  of  the  sudden 
death  of  my  brother.  It  was  accompanied  by  an  earnest  inquiry 
for  intelligence  concerning  me,  and  a  prayer,  should  this  meet  my 
eye,  that  I  would  hasten  to  Naples  to  comfort  an  infirm  and 
afflicted  father. 

I  was  naturally  of  an  affectionate  disposition,  but  my  brother 
had  never  been  as  a  brother  to  me.  I  had  long  considered  myself 
as  disconnected  from  him,  and  his  death  caused  me  but  little 
emotion,  The  thoughts  of  my  father,  infirm  and  suffering, 
touched  me  however  to  the  quick ;  and  when  I  thought  of  him, 
that  lofty  magnificent  being,  now  bowed  down  and  desolate,  and 
suing  to  me  for  comfort,  all  my  resentment  for  past  neglect  was 


THE   YOUNG  ITALIAN.  101 


subdued,  and  a  glow  of  filial  affection  was  awakened  with 
in  me. 

The  predominant  feeling,  however,  that  overpowered  all 
others,  Was  transport  at  the  sudden  change  in  my  whole  fortunes. 
A  home,  a  name,  rank,  wealth,  awaited  me ;  and  love  painted  a 
still  more  rapturous  prospect  in  the  distance.  I  hastened  to 
Bianca,  and  threw  myself  at  her  feet.  "  Oh,  Bianca !"  exclaimed 
I,  "  at  length  I  can  claim  you  for  my  own.  I  am  no  longer  a 
nameless  adventurer,  a  neglected,  rejected  outcast.  Look — read 
— behold  the  tidings  that  restore  me  to  my  name  and  to  myself !" 

I  will  not  dwell  on  the  scene  that  ensued.  Bianca  rejoiced  in 
the  reverse  of  my  situation,  because  she  saw  it  lightened  my  heart 
of  a  load  of  care ;  for  her  own  part,  she  had  loved  me  for  myself, 
and  had  never  doubted  that  my  own  merits  would  command  both 
fame  and  fortune. 

I  now  felt  all  my  native  .pride  buoyant  within  me.  I  no 
longer  walked  with  my  eyes  bent  to  the  dust;  hope  elevated 
them  to  the  skies — my  soul  was  lit  up  with  fresh  fires,  and 
beamed  from  my  countenance. 

I  wished  to  impart  the  change  in  my  circumstances  to  the 
count ;  to  let  him  know  who  and  what  I  was — and  to  make  formal 
proposals  for  the  hand  of  Bianca ;  but  he  was  absent  on  a  distant 
estate.  I  opened  my  whole  soul  to  Filippo.  Now  first  I  told 
him  of  my  passion,  of  the  doubts  and  fears  that  had  distracted  me, 
and  of  the  tidings  that  had  suddenly  dispelled  them.  He  over 
whelmed  me  with  congratulations,  and  with  the  warmest  expres 
sions  of  sympathy  ;  I  embraced  him  in  the  fulness  of  my  heart ; — 
I  felt  compunctions  for  having  suspected  him  of  coldness,  and 
asked  him  forgiveness  for  ever  having  doubted  his  friendship. 

Nothing  is  so  warm  and  enthusiastic  as  a  sudden  expansion 


102  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


of  the  heart  between  young  men.  Filippo  entered  into  our  con 
cerns  with  the  most  eager  interest.  He  was  our  confidant  and 
counsellor.  It  was  determined  that  I  should  hasten  at  once  to 
Naples,  to  re-establish  myself  in  my  father's  affections,  and  my 
paternal  home ;  and  the  moment  the  reconciliation  was  effected, 
and  my  father's  consent  insured,  I  should  return  and  demand 
Bianca  of  the  count.  Filippo  engaged  to  secure  his  father's 
acquiescence ;  indeed  he  undertook  to  watch  over  our  interests, 
and  to  be  the  channel  through  which  we  might  correspond. 

My  parting  with  Bianca  was  tender — delicious — agonizing. 
It  was  in  a  little  pavilion  of  the  garden  which  had  been  one  of 
our  favorite  resorts.  How  often  and  often  did  I  return  to  have 
one  more  adieu,  to  have  her  look  once  more  on  in  speechless 
emotion ;  to  enjoy  once  more  the  rapturous  sight  of  those  tears 
streaming  down  her  lovely  cheeks ;  to  seize  once  more  on  that 
delicate  hand,  the  frankly  accorded  pledge  of  love,  and  cover  it 
with  tears  and  kisses  !  Heavens  !  there  is  a  delight  even  in  the 
parting  agony  of  two  lovers,  worth  a  thousand  tame  pleasures  of 
the  world.  I  have  her  at  this  moment  before  my  eyes,  at  the 
window  of  the  pavilion,  putting  aside  the  vines  which  clustered 
about  the  casement,  her  form  beaming  forth  in  virgin  light,  her 
countenance  all  tears  and  smiles,  sending  a  thousand  and  a  thou 
sand  adieus  after  me,  as  hesitating,  in  a  delirium  of  fondness  and 
agitation,  I  faltered  my  way  down  the  avenue. 

As  the  bark  bore  me  out  of  the  harbor  of  Genoa,  how  eagerly 
my  eye  stretched  along  the  coast  of  Sestri  till  it  discovered  the 
villa  gleaming  from  among  trees  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  As 
long  as  day  lasted  I  gazed  and  gazed  upon  it,  till  it  lessened  and 
lessened  to  a  mere  white  speck  in  the  distance;  and  still  my 
intense  and  fixed  gaze  discerned  it,  when  all  other  objects  of  the 


THE  YOUNG  ITALIAN.  103 


coast  had  blended  into  indistinct  confusion,  or  were  lost  in  the 
evening  gloom. 

On  arriving  at  Naples,  I  hastened  to  ray  paternal  home.  My 
heart  yearned  for  the  long-withheld  blessing  of  a  father's  love. 
As  I  entered  the  proud  portal  of  the  ancestral  palace,  my  emo 
tions  were  so  great,  that  I  could  not  speak.  No  one  knew  me ; 
the  servants  gazed  at  me  with  curiosity  and  surprise.  A  few 
years  of  intellectual  elevation  and  development  had  made  a  pro 
digious  change  in  the  poor  fugitive  stripling  from  the  convent. 
Still,  that  no  one  should  know  me  in  my  rightful  home  was  over 
powering.  I  felt  like  the  prodigal  son  returned.  I  was  a  stran 
ger  in  the  house  of  my  father.  I  burst  into  tears  and  wept  aloud. 
When  I  ma^e  myself  known,  however,  all  was  changed.  I,  who 
had  once  been  almost  repulsed  from  its  walls,  and  forced  to  fly  as 
an  exile,  was  welcomed  back  with  acclamation,  with  servility. 
One  of  the  servants  hastened  to  prepare  my  father  for  my  recep 
tion  ;  my  eagerness  to  receive  the  paternal  embrace  was  so  great, 
that  I  could  not  await  his  return,  but  hurried  after  him.  What 
a  spectacle  met  my  eyes  as  I  entered  the  chamber !  My  father, 
whom  I  had  left  in  the  pride  of  vigorous  age,  whose  noble  and 
majestic  bearing  had  so  awed  my  young  imagination,  was  bowed 
down  and  withered  into  decrepitude.  A  paralysis  had  ravaged 
his  stately  form,  and  left  it  a  shaking  ruin.  He  sat  propped  up 
in  his  chair,  with  pale,  relaxed  visage,  and  glassy  wandering  eye. 
His  intellects  had  evidently  shared  in  the  ravages  of  his  frame. 
The  servant  was  endeavoring  to  make  him  comprehend  that  a 
visitor  was  at  hand.  I  tottered  up  to  him,  and  sank  at  his  feet. 
All  his  past  coldness  and  neglect  were  forgotten  in  his  present 
sufferings.  I  remembered  only  that  he  was  my  parent,  and  that 
I  had  deserted  him.  I  clasped  his  knee:  my  voice  was  almost 


104  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


filled  with  convulsive  sobs.  "  Pardon — pardon  !  oh  !  my  father !" 
was  all  that  I  could  utter.  His  apprehension  seemed  slowly  to 
return  to  him.  He  gazed  at  me  for  some  moments  with  a  vague, 
inquiring  look ;  a  convulsive  tremor  quivered  about  his  lips ;  he 
feebly  extended  a  shaking  hand ;  laid  it  upon  my  head,  and  burst 
into  an  infantine  flow  of  tears. 

From  that  moment  he  would  scarcely  spare  me  from  his 
sight.  I  appeared  the  only  object  that  his  heart  responded  to  in 
the  world ;  all  else  was  as  a  blank  to  him.  He  had  almost  lost 
the  power  of  speech,  and  the  reasoning  faculty  seemed  at  an  end. 
He  was  mute  and  passive,  excepting  that  fits  of  childlike  weep 
ing  would  sometimes  come  over  him  without  any  immediate  cause. 
If  I  left  the  room  at  any  time,  his  eye  was  incessantly  fixed  on 
the  door  till  my  return,  and  on  my  entrance  there  was  another 
gush  of  tears. 

To  talk  with  him  of  my  concerns,  in  this  ruined  state  of  mind, 
would  have  been  worse  than  useless ;  to  have  left  him  for  ever  so 
short  a  time  would  have  been  cruel,  unnatural.  Here  then  was 
a  new  trial  for  my  affections.  I  wrote  to  Bianca  an  account  of 
my  return,  and  of  my  actual  situation,  painting  in  colors  vivid, 
for  they  were  true,  the  torments  I  suffered  at  our  being  thus  sepa 
rated  ;  for  the  youthful  lover  every  day  of  absence  is  an  age  of 
love  lost.  I  inclosed  the  letter  in  one  to  Filippo,  who  was  the 
channel  of  our  correspondence.  I  received  a  reply  from  him  full 
of  friendship  and  sympathy  ;  from  Bianca,  full  assurances  of  af 
fection  and  constancy.  Week  after  week,  month  after  month 
elapsed,  without  making  any  change  in  my  circumstances.  The 
vital  flame  which  had  seemed  nearly  extinct  when  first  I  met  my 
father,  kept  fluttering  on  without  any  apparent  diminution.  I 
watched  him  constantly,  faithfully,  I  had  almost  said  patiently. 


THE    YOUNG  ITALIAN.  105 


I  knew  that  his  death  alone  would  set  me  free — yet  I  never  at 
any  moment  wished  it.  I  felt  too  glad  to  be  able  to  make  any 
atonement  for  past  disobedience  ;  and  denied  as  I  had  been  all 
endearments  of  relationship  in  my  early  days,  my  heart  yearned 
towards  a  father,  who  in  his  age  and  helplessness  had  thrown  him 
self  entirely  on  me  for  comfort. 

My  passion  for  Bianca  gained  daily  more  force  from  absence  : 
by  constant  meditation  it  wore  itself  a  deeper  and  deeper  channel. 
I  made  no  new  friends  nor  acquaintances ;  sought  none  of  the 
pleasures  of  Naples,  which  my  rank  and  fortune  threw  open  to 
me.  Mine  was  a  heart  that  confined  itself  to  few  objects,  but 
dwelt  upon  them  with  the  intenser  passion.  To  sit  by  my  father, 
administer  to  his  wants,  and  to  meditate  on  Bianca  in  the  silence 
of  his  chamber,  was  my  constant  habit.  Sometimes  I  amused 
myself  with  my  pencil,  in  portraying  the  image  ever  present  to 
my  imagination.  I  transferred  to  canvas  every  look  and  smile 
of  hers  that  dwelt  in  my  heart.  I  showed  them  to  my  father,  in 
hopes  of  awakening  an  interest  in  his  bosom  for  the  mere  shadow 
of  my  love ;  but  he  was  too  far  sunk  in  intellect  to  take  any  no 
tice  of  them.  When  I  received  a  letter  from  Bianca,  it  was  a 
new  source  of  solitary  luxury.  Her  letters,  it  is  true,  were  less 
and  less  frequent,  but  they  were  always  full  of  assurances  of  un 
abated  affection.  They  breathed  not  the  frank  and  innocent 
warmth  with  which  she  expressed  herself  in  conversation,  but  I 
accounted  for  it  from  the  embarrassment  which  inexperienced 
minds  have  often  to  express  themselves  upon  paper.  Filippo 
assured  me  of  her  unaltered  constancy.  They  both  lamented,  in 
the  strongest  terms,  our  continued  separation,  though  they  did 
justice  to  the  filial  piety  that  kept  me  by  my  father's  side. 

Nearly  two  years  elapsed  in  this  protracted  exile.     To  me 


106  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


they  were  so  many  ages.  Ardent  and  impetuous  by  nature,  I 
scarcely  know  how  I  should  have  supported  so  long  an  absence, 
had  I  not  felt  assured  that  the  faith  of  Bianca  was  equal  to  my 
own.  At  length  my  father  died.  Life  went  from  him  almost  im 
perceptibly.  I  hung  over  him  in  mute  affliction,  and  watched 
the  expiring  spasms  of  nature.  His  last  faltering  accents  whis 
pered  repeatedly  a  blessing  on  me.  Alas !  how  has  it  been  ful 
filled  ! 

When  I  had  paid  due  honors  to  his  remains,  and  laid  them  in 
the  tomb  of  our  ancestors,  I  arranged  briefly  my  affairs,  put 
them  in  a  posture  to  be  easily  at  my  command  from  a  distance, 
and  embarked  once  more  with  a  bounding  heart  for  Genoa. 

Our  voyage  was  propitious,  and  oh !  what  was  my  rapture, 
when  first,  in  the  dawn  of  morning,  I  saw  the  shadowy  summits 
of  the  Apennines  rising  almost  like  clouds  above  the  horizon ! 
The  sweet  breath  of  summer  just  moved  us  over  the  long  waver 
ing  billows  that  were  rolling  us  on  towards  Genoa.  By  degrees 
the  coast  of  Sestri  rose  like  a  creation  of  enchantment  from  the 
silver  bosom  of  the  deep.  I  beheld  the  line  of  villages  and 
palaces  studding  its  borders.  My  eye  reverted  to  a  well-known 
point,  and  at  length,  from  the  confusion  of  distant  objects,  it  singled 
out  the  villa  which  contained  Bianca.  It  was  a  mere  speck  in 
the  landscape,  but  glimmering  from  afar,  the  polar  star  of  my 
heart. 

Again  I  gazed  at  it  for  a  livelong  summer's  day,  but  oh  !  how 
different  the  emotions  between  departure  and  return.  It  now 
kept  growing  and  growing,  instead  of  lessening  and  lessening  on 
my  sight.  My  heart  seemed  to  dilate  with  it.  I  looked  at  it 
through  a  telescope.  I  gradually  defined  one  feature  after  another. 
The  balconies  of  the  central  saloon  where  first  I  met  Bianca  be- 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  107 


neath  its  roof;  the  terrace  where  we  so  often  had  passed  the 
delightful  summer  evenings ;  the  awning  which  shaded  her  cham 
ber  window ;  I  almost  fancied  I  saw  her  form  beneath  it.  Could 
she  but  know  her  lover  was  in  the  bark  whose  white  sail  now 
gleamed  on  the  sunny  bosom  of  the  sea !  My  fond  impatience 
increased  as  we  neared  the  coast ;  the  ship  seemed  to  lag  lazily 
over  the  billows ;  I  could  almost  have  sprang  into  the  sea,  and 
swam  to  the  desired  shore. 

The  shadows  of  evening  gradually  shrouded  the  scene ;  but 
the  moon  arose  in  all  her  fulness  and  beauty,  and  shed  the  tender 
light  so  dear  to  lovers,  over  the  romantic  coast  of  Sestri.  My 
soul  was  bathed  in  unutterable  tenderness.  I  anticipated  the 
heavenly  evenings  I  should  pass  in  once  more  wandering  with 
Bianca  by  the  light  of  that  blessed  moon. 

It  was  late  at  night  before  we  entered  the  harbor.  As  early 
next  morning  as  I  could  get  released  from  the  formalities  of  land 
ing,  I  threw  myself  on  horseback,  and  hastened  to  the  villa.  As 
I  galloped  round  the  rocky  promontory  on  which  stands  the  Faro, 
and  saw  the  coast  of  Sestri  opening  upon  me,  a  thousand  anxie 
ties  and  doubts  suddenly  sprang  up  in  my  bosom.  There  is  some 
thing  fearful  in  returning  to  those  we  love,  while  yet  uncertain 
what  ills  or  changes  absence  may  have  effected.  The  turbulence 
of  my  agitation  shook  my  very  frame.  I  spurred  my  horse  to 
redoubled  speed;  he  was  covered  with  foam  when  we  both 
arrived  panting  at  the  gateway  that  opened  to  the  grounds  around 
the  villa.  I  left  my  horse  at  a  cottage,  and  walked  through  the 
grounds,  that  I  might  regain  tranquillity  for  the  approaching  in 
terview.  I  chid  myself  for  having  suffered  mere  doubts  and  sur 
mises  thus  suddenly  to  overcome  me ;  but  I  was  always  prone  to 
be  carried  away  by  gusts  of  the  feelings. 


108  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


On  entering  the  garden,  every  thing  bore  the  same  look  as 
when  I  had  left  it ;  and  this  unchanged  aspect  of  things  reassured 
me.  There  were  the  alleys  in  which  I  had  so  often  walked  with 
Bianca,  as  we  listened  to  the  song  of  the  nightingale ;  the  same 
shades  under  which  we  had  so  often  sat  during  the  noontide  heat. 
There  were  the  same  flowers  of  which  she  was  fond ;  and  which 
appeared  still  to  be  under  the  ministry  of  her  hand.  Every 
thing  looked  and  breathed  of  Bianca ;  hope  and  joy  flushed  in 
my  bosom  at  every  step.  I  passed  a  little  arbor,  in  which  we  had 
often  sat  and  read  together — a  book  and  glove  lay  on  the  bench — 
It  was  Bianca's  glove  ;  it  was  a  volume  of  the  Metastasio  I  had 
given  her.  The  glove  lay  in  my  favorite  passage.  I  clasped 
them  to  my  heart  with  rapture.  "  All  is  safe !"  exclaimed  I ; 
"  she  loves  me,  she  is  still  my  own !" 

I  bounded  lightly  along  the  avenue,  down  which  I  had  faltered 
so  slowly  at  my  departure.  I  beheld  her  favorite  pavilion,  which 
had  witnessed  our  parting  scene.  The  window  was  open,  with 
the  same  vine  clambering  about  it,  precisely  as  when  she  waved 
and  wept  me  an  adieu.  O  how  transporting  was  the  contrast  in 
my  situation  !  As  I  passed  near  the  pavilion,  I  heard  the  tones 
of  a  female  voice :  they  thrilled  through  me  with  an  appeal  to 
my  heart  not  to  be  mistaken.  Before  I  could  think,  I  felt  they 
were  Bianca's.  For  an  instant  I  paused,  overpowered  with  agi 
tation.  I  feared  to  break  so  suddenly  upon  her.  I  softly  as 
cended  the  steps  of  the  pavilion.  The  door  was  open.  I  saw 
Bianca  seated  at  a  table ;  her  back  was  towards  me  ;  she  was 
warbling  a  soft  melancholy  air,  and  was  occupied  in  drawing.  A 
glance  sufficed  to  show  me  that  she  was  copying  one  of  my  own 
paintings.  I  gazed  on  her  for  a  moment  in  a  delicious  tumult 
of  emotions.  She  paused  in  her  singing  :  a  heavy  sigh,  almost  a 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  109 


sob  followed.  I  could  no  longer  contain  myself.  "  Bianca !" 
exclaimed  I,  in  a  half-smothered  voice.  She  started  at  the  sound, 
brushed  back  the  ringlets  that  hung  clustering  about  her  face, 
darted  a  glance  at  me,  uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and  would  have 
fallen  to  the  earth,  had  I  not  caught  her  in  my  arms. 

"  Bianca  !  my  own  Bianca  !"  exclaimed  I,  folding  her  to  my 
bosom;  my  voice  stifled  in  sobs  of  convulsive  joy.  She  lay  in 
my  arms  without  sense  or  motion.  Alarmed  at  the  effects  of  my 
precipitation,  I  scarce  knew  what  to  do.  I  tried  by  a  thousand 
endearing  words  to  call  her  back  to  consciousness.  She  slowly 
recovered,  and  half  opening  her  eyes,  "  Where  am  I  ?"  mur 
mured  she  faintly.  "  Here !"  exclaimed  I,  pressing  her  to  my 
bosom,  "  here — close  to  the  heart  that  adores  you — in  the  arms 
of  your  faithful  Ottavio  !"  "  Oh  no  !  no !  no  !"  shrieked  she, 
starting  into  sudden  life  and  and  terror — "  away  !  away !  leave 
me  !  leave  me !" 

She  tore  herself  from  my  arms ;  rushed  to  a  corner  of  the 
saloon,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  the  very  sight 
of  me  were  baleful.  I  was  thunderstruck.  I  could  not  believe 
my  senses.  I  followed  her,  trembling,  confounded.  I  endea 
vored  to  take  her  hand  ;  but  she  shrunk  from  my  very  touch 
with  horror. 

"  Good  heavens,  Bianca !"  exclaimed  I,  "  what  is  the  mean 
ing  of  this  ?  Is  this  my  reception  after  so  long  an  absence  ?  Is 
this  the  love  you  professed  for  me  ?" 

At  the  mention  of  love,  a  shuddering  ran  through  her.  She 
turned  to  me  a  face  wild  with  anguish  :  "  No  more  of  that — no 
more  of  that !"  gasped  she  :  "  talk  not  to  me  of  love — I — I — am 
married !" 

I  reeled  as  if  I  had  received  a  mortal  blow — a  sickness  struck 


110  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


to  my  very  heart.  I  caught  at  a  window-frame  for  support.  For 
a  moment  or  two  every  thing  was  chaos  around  me.  When  I 
recovered,  I  beheld  Bianca  lying  on  a  sofa,  her  face  buried  in  the 
pillow,  and  sobbing  convulsively.  Indignation  for  her  fickleness 
for  a  moment  overpowered  every  other  feeling. 

"  Faithless — perjured !"  cried  I,  striding  across  the  room. 
But  another  glance  at  that  beautiful  being  in  distress,  checked  all 
my  wrath.  Anger  could  not  dwell  together  with  her  idea  in 
my  soul. 

Oh !  Bianca,"  exclaimed  I,  in  anguish,  "  could  I  have  dreamt 
of  this  ?  Could  I  have  suspected  you  would  have  been  false 
to  me  ?" 

She  raised  her  face  all  streaming  with  tears,  all  disordered 
with  emotion,  and  gave  me  one  appealing  look.  "  False  to  you  ! 
— They  told  me  you  were  dead !" 

"  What,"  said  I,  "  in  spite  of  our  constant  correspondence  ?" 

She  gazed  wildly  at  me :  "  Correspondence !  what  corres 
pondence  !" 

"  Have  you  not  repeatedly  received  and  replied  to  my 
letters  ?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  with  solemnity  and  fervor.  "  As  I 
hope  for  mercy — never  !" 

A  horrible  surmise  shot  through  my  brain.  "  Who  told  you 
I  was  dead  ?" 

"  It  was  reported  that  the  ship  in  which  you  embarked  for 
Naples  perished  at  sea." 

"  But  who  told  you  the  report  ?" 

She  paused  for  an  instant,  and  trembled  : — "  Filippo !" 

"  May  the  God  of  heaven  curse  him  !"  cried  I,  extending  my 
clinched  fists  aloft. 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  Ill 


"  O  do  not  curse  him,  do  not  curse  him  !"  exclaimed  she,  "he 
is — he  is — my  husband  !" 

This  was  all  that  was  wanting  to  unfold  the  perfidy  that  had 
beelt'practised  upon  me.  My  blood  boiled  like  liquid  fire  in  my 
veins.  I  gasped  with  rage  too  great  for  utterance — I  remained 
for  a  time  bewildered  by  the  whirl  of  horrible  thoughts  that 
rushed  through  my  mind.  The  poor  victim  of  deception  before 
me  thought  it  was  with  her  I  was  incensed.  She  faintly  mur 
mured  forth  her  exculpation.  I  will  not  dwell  upon  it.  I  saw 
in  it  more  than  she  meant  to  reveal.  I  saw  with  a  glance  how 
both  of  us  had  been  betrayed. 

"  'Tis  well,"  muttered  I  to  myself  in  smothered  accents  of 
concentrated  fury.  "He  shall  render  an  account  of  all  this." 

Bianca  overheard  me.  New  terror  flashed  in  her  counten 
ance.  "  For  mercy's  sake,  do  not  meet  him  ! — say  nothing  of 
what  has  passed — for  my  sake  say  nothing  to  him — I  only  shall 
be  the  sufferer !" 

A  new  suspicion  darted  across  my  mind. — "  What !"  ex 
claimed  I,  "  do  you  then  fear  him  ?  is  he  unkind  to  you  ?  Tell 
me,"  reiterated  I,  grasping  her  hand,  and  looking  her  eagerly  in 
the  face,  "  tell  me — dares  he  to  use  you  harshly  ?" 

"  No  !  no !  no  !"  cried  she,  faltering  and  embarrassed — but 
the  glance  at  her  face  had  told  me  volumes.  I  saw  in  her  pallid 
and  wasted  features,  in  the  prompt  terror  and  subdued  agony  of 
her  eye,  a  whole  history  of  a  mind  broken  down  by  tyranny. 
Great  God !  and  was  this  beauteous  flower  snatched  from  me  to 
be  thus  trampled  upon  ?  The  idea  roused  me  to  madness.  I 
clinched  my  teeth  and  my  hands  ;  I  foamed  at  the  mouth  ;  every 
passion  seemed  to  have  resolved  itself  into  the  fury  that  like  a 
lava  boiled  within  my  heart.  Bianca  shrunk  from  me  in  speech- 


112  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


less  affright.  As  I  strode  by  the  window,  my  eye  darted  down 
the  alley.  Fatal  moment !  I  beheld  Filippo  at  a  distance  !  my 
brain  was  in  delirium — I  sprang  from  the  pavilion,  and  was  be 
fore  him  with  the  quickness  of  lightning.  He  saw  me  as  I  came 
rushing  upon  him — he  turned  pale,  looked  wildly  to  right  and  left, 
as  if  he  would  have  fled,  and  trembling,  drew  his  sword. 
"  Wretch  !"  cried  I,  "  well  may  you  draw  your  weapon  !" 
I  spoke  not  another  wor& — I  snatched  forth  a  stiletto,  put  by 
the  sword  which  trembled  in  his  hand,  and  buried  my  poniard  in 
his  bosom.  He  fell  with  the  blow,  but  my  rage  was  unsated.  I 
sprang  upon  him  with  the  blood-thirsty  feeling  of  a  tiger ;  re 
doubled  my  blows ;  mangled  him  in  my  frenzy,  grasped  him  by 
the  throat,  until,  with  reiterated  wounds  and  strangling  convul 
sions,  he  expired  in  my  grasp.  I  remained  glaring  on  the  coun 
tenance,  horrible  in  death,  that  seemed  to  stare  back  with  its  pro 
truded  eyes  upon  me.  Piercing  shrieks  roused  me  from  my  de 
lirium.  I  looked  round,  and  beheld  Bianca  flying  distractedly 
towards  us.  My  brain  whirled — I  waited  not  to  meet  her  ;  but 
fled  from  the  scene  of  horror.  I  fled  forth  from  the  garden  like 
another  Cain, — a  hell  within  my  bosom,  and  a  curse  upon  my 
head.  I  fled  without  knowing  whither,  almost  without  knowing 
why.  My  only  idea  was  to  get  farther  and  farther  from  the  hor 
rors  I  had  left  behind  ;  as  if  I  could  throw  space  between  myself 
and  my  conscience.  I  fled  to  the  Apennines,  and  wandered  for 
days  and  days  among  their  savage  heights.  How  I  existed,  I 
cannot  tell — what  rocks  and  precipices  I  braved,  and  how  I  braved 
them,  I  know  not.  I  kept  on  and  on,  trying  to  out-travel  the 
curse  that  clung  to  me.  Alas !  the  shrieks  of  Bianca  rung  for 
ever  in  my  ears.  The  horrible  countenance  of  my  victim  was 
for  ever  before  my  eyes.  The  blood  of  Filippo  cried  to  me  from  the 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  113 


ground.  Rocks,  trees,  and  torrents,  all  resounded  with  my  crime. 
Then  it  was  I  felt  how  much  more  insupportable  is  the  anguish 
of  remorse  than  every  other  mental  pang.  Oh  !  could  I  but  have 
cast  off  this  crime  that  festered  in  my  heart — could  I  but  have 
regained  the  innocence  that  reigned  in  my  breast  as  I  entered  the 
garden  at  Sestri — could  I  but  have  restored  my  victim  to  life,  I 
felt  as  if  I  could  look  on  with  transport,  even  though  Bianca  were 
in  his  arms. 

By  degrees  this  frenzied  fever  of  remorse  settled  into  a  per 
manent  malady  of  the  mind — into  one  of  the  most  horrible  that 
ever  poor  wretch  was  cursed  with.  Wherever  I  went,  the  coun 
tenance  of  him  I  had  slain  appeared  to  follow  me.  Whenever  I 
turned  my  head,  I  beheld  it  behind  me,  hideous  with  the  contor 
tions  of  the  dying  moment.  I  have  tried  in  every  way  to  escape 
from  this  horrible  phantom,  but  in  vain.  I  know  not  whether  it 
be  an  illusion  of  the  mind,  the  consequence  of  my  dismal  educa 
tion  at  the  convent,  or  whether  a  phantom  really  sent  by  Heaven 
to  punish  me,  but  there  it  ever  is — at  all  times — in  all  places. 
Nor  has  time  nor  habit  had  any  effect  in  familiarizing  me  with 
its  terrors.  I  have  travelled  from  place  to  place — plunged  into 
amusements — tried  dissipation  and  distraction  of  every  kind — all 
— all  in  vain.  I  once  had  recourse  to  my  pencil,  as  a  desperate 
experiment.  I  painted  an  exact  resemblance  of  this  phantom 
face.  I  placed  it  before  me,  in  hopes  that  by  constantly  contem 
plating  the  copy,  I  might  diminish  the  effect  of  the  original.  But 
I  only  doubled  instead  of  diminishing  the  misery.  Such  is  the 
curse  that  has  clung  to  my  footsteps — that  has  made  my  life  a 
burden,  but  the  thought  of  death  terrible.  God  knows  what 
I  have  suffered — what  days  and  days,  and  nights  and  nights  of 
sleepless  torment — what  a  never-dying  worm  has  preyed  upon 


114  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


my  heart — what  an  unquenchable  fire  has  burned  within  my 
brain  !  He  knows  the  wrongs  that  wrought  upon  my  poor  weak 
nature  ;  that  converted  the  tenderest  of  affections  into  the  dead 
liest  of  fury.  He  knows  best  whether  a  frail  erring  creature  has 
expiated  by  long-enduring  torture  and  measureless  remorse  the 
crime  of  a  moment  of  madness.  Often,  often  have  I  prostrated 
myself  in  the  dust,  and  implored  that  he  would  give  me  a  sign 
of  his  forgiveness,  and  let  me  die. 

Thus  far  had  I  written  some  time  since.  I  had  meant  to 
leave  this  record  of  misery  and  crime  with  you,  to  be  read  when 
I  should  be  no  more. 

My  prayer  to  Heaven  has  at  length  been  heard.  You  were 
witness  to  my  emotions  last  evening  at  the  church,  when  the 
vaulted  temple  resounded  with  the  words  of  atonement  and  redemp 
tion.  I  heard  a  voice  speaking  to  me  from  the  midst  of  the 
music  ;  I  heard  it  rising  above  the  pealing  of  the  organ  and  the 
voices  of  the  choir — it  spoke  to  me  in  tones  of  celestial  melody 
— it  promised  mercy  and  forgiveness,  but  demanded  from  me  full 
expiation.  I  go  to  make  it.  To-morrow  I  shall  be  on  my  way 
to  Genoa,  to  surrender  myself  to  justice.  You  who  have  pitied 
my  sufferings,  who  have  poured  the  balm  of  sympathy  into  my 
wounds,  do  not  shrink  from  my  memory  with  abhorrence  now 
that  you  know  my  story.  Recollect,  that  when  you  read  of  my 
crime  I  shall  have  atoned  for  it  with  my  blood  ! 


When  the  Baronet  had  finished,  there  was  a  universal  desire 
expressed  to  see  the   painting  of  this   frightful  visage.     After 


THE   YOUNG   ITALIAN.  115 


much  entreaty  the  Baronet  consented,  on  condition  that  they 
should  only  visit  it  one  by  one.  He  called  his  housekeeper,  and 
gave  her  charge  to  conduct  the  gentlemen,  singly,  to  the  cham 
ber.  They  all  returned  varying  in  their  stories.  Some  affected 
in  one  way,  some  in  another ;  some  more,  some  less ;  but  all 
agreeing  that  there  was  a  certain  something  about  the  painting 
that  had  a  very  odd  effect  upon  the  feelings. 

I  stood  in  a  deep  bow-window  with  the  Baronet,  and  could 
not  help  expressing  my  wonder.  "  After  all,"  said  I,  "  there  are 
certain  mysteries  in  our  nature,  certain  inscrutable  impulses  and 
influences,  which  warrant  one  in  being  superstitious.  Who  can 
account  for  so  many  persons  of  different  characters  being  thus 
strangely  affected  by  a  mere  painting  ?" 

"  And  especially  when  not  one  of  them  has  seen  it?"  said  the 
Baronet,  with  a  smile. 

"  How !"  exclaimed  I,  "  not  seen  it  ?" 

"  Not  one  of  them !"  replied  he,  "  laying  his  finger  on  his 
lips,  in  sign  of  secrecy.  "  I  saw  that  some  of  them  were  in  a 
bantering  vein,  and  did  not  choose  that  the  memento  of  the  poor 
Italian  should  be  made  a  jest  of.  So  I  gave  the  housekeeper  a 
hint  to  show  them  all  to  a  different  chamber !" 


Thus  end  the  stories  of  the  Nervous  Gentleman. 


PART  II. 


BUCKTHORNE  AND  HIS  FEIENDS 


This  world  is  the  best  that  we  live  in, 

To  lend,  or  to  spend,  or  to  give  in ; 

But  to  beg,  or  to  borrow,  or  get  a  man's  own, 

'Tis  the  very  worst  world,  sir,  that  ever  was  known. 

Lines  from  an  Inn  Window, 


LITERARY  LIFE. 

AMONG  other  subjects  of  a  traveller's  curiosity,  I  had  at  one  time 
a  great  craving  after  anecdotes  of  literary  life ;  and  being  at 
London,  one  of  the  most  noted  places  for  the  production  of  books, 
I  was  excessively  anxious  to  know  something  of  the  animals 
which  produced  them.  Chance  fortunately  threw  me  in  the  way 
of  a  literary  man  by  the  name  of  Buckthorne,  an  eccentric  per 
sonage,  who  had  lived  much  in  the  metropolis,  and  could  give  me 
the  natural  history  of  every  odd  animal  to  be  met  with  in  that 
wilderness  of  men.  He  readily  imparted  to  me  some  useful 
hints  upon  the  subject  of  my  inquiry. 

"  The  literary  world,"  said  he,  "  is  made  up  of  little  confede 
racies,  each  looking  upon  its  own  members  as  the  lights  of  the 
universe ;  and  considering  all  others  as  mere  transient  meteors, 
doomed  soon  to  fall  and  be  forgotten,  while  its  own  luminaries  are 
to  shine  steadily  on  to  immortality." 

"  And  pray,"  said  I,  "  how  is  a  man  to  get  a  peep  into  those 
confederacies  you  speak  of?  I  presume  an  intercourse  with 
authors  is  a  kind  of  intellectual  exchange,  where  one  must  bring 
his  commodities  to  barter,  and  always  give  a  quid  pro  quo." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  how  you  mistake,"  said  Buckthorne,  smiling  ; 
"  you  must  never  think  to  become  popular  among  wits  by  shining. 
They  go  into  society  to  shine  themselves,  not  to  admire  the  bril 
liancy  of  others.  I  once  thought  as  you  do,  and  never  went  into 


120  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


literary  society  without  studying  my  part  beforehand ;  the  conse 
quence  was,  that  I  soon  got  the  name  of  an  intolerable  proser, 
and  should  in  a  little  while  have  been  completely  excommunicated, 
had  I  not  changed  my  plan  of  operations.  No,  sir,  no  character 
succeeds  so  well  among  wits  as  that  of  a  good  listener ;  or  if  ever 
you  are  eloquent,  let  it  be  when  tete-a-tete  with  an  author,  and 
then  in  praise  of  his  own  works,  or,  what  is  nearly  as  acceptable, 
in  disparagement  of  the  works  of  his  contemporaries.  If  ever 
he  speaks  favorably  of  the  productions  of  a  particular  friend,  dis 
sent  boldly  from  him  ;  pronounce  his  friend  to  be  a  blockhead ; 
never  fear  his  being  vexed ;  much  as  people  speak  of  the  irrita 
bility  of  authors,  I  never  found  one  to  take  offence  at  such  con 
tradictions.  No,  no,  sir,  authors  are  particularly  candid  in  admit 
ting  the  faults  of  their  friends. 

"  Indeed,  I  would  advise  you  to  be  extremely  sparing  of  re 
marks  on  all  modern  works,  except  to  make  sarcastic  observations 
on  the  most  distinguished  writers  of  the  day." 

u  Faith,"  said  I,  "  I'll  praise  none  that  have  not  been  dead  for 
at  least  half  a  century." 

"  Even  then,"  observed  Mr.  Buckthorn e,  "  I  would  advise 
you  to  be  rather  cautious ;  for  you  must  know  that  many  old 
writers  have  been  enlisted  under  the  banners  of  different  sects, 
and  their  merits  have  become  as  completely  topics  of  party  dis 
cussion  as  the  merits  of  living  statesmen  and  politicians.  Nay, 
there  have  been  whole  periods  of  literature  absolutely  taboo'd,  to 
use  a  South  Sea  phrase.  It  is,  for  example,  as  much  as  a  man's 
critical  reputation  is  worth  in  some  circles,  to  say  a  word  in  praise 
of  any  of  the  writers  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  or  even 
of  Queen  Anne,  they  being  all  declared  Frenchmen  in  disguise." 

"  And  pray,"  said  I,  "  when  am  I  then  to  know  that  I  am  on 


LITERARY  LIFE.  121 


safe  grounds,  being  totally  unacquainted  with  the  literary  land 
marks,  and  the  boundary  line  of  fashionable  taste." 

"  Oh !"  replied  he,  "  there  is  fortunately  one  tract  of  literature 
which  forms  a  kind  of  neutral  ground,  on  which  all  the  literary 
meet  amicably,  and  run  riot  in  the  excess  of  their  good  humor ; 
and  this  is  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James.  Here  you  may 
praise  away  at  random.  Here  it  is  "  cut  and  come  again ;"  and 
the  more  obscure  the  author,  and  the  more  quaint  and  crabbed 
his  style,  the  more  your  admiration  will  smack  of  the  real  relish 
of  the  connoisseur ;  whose  taste,  like  that  of  an  epicure,  is  always 
for  game  that  has  an  antiquated  flavor. 

"  But,"  continued  he,  "  as  you  seem  anxious  to  know  some 
thing  of  literary  society,  I  will  take  an  opportunity  to  introduce 
you  to  some  coterie,  where  the  talents  of  the  day  are  assembled. 
I  cannot  promise  you,  however,  that  they  will  all  be  of  the  first 
order.  Somehow  or  other,  our  great  geniuses  are  not  gregarious  ; 
they  do  not  go  in  flocks,  but  fly  singly  in  general  society.  They 
prefer  mingling  like  common  men  with  the  multitude,  and  are  apt 
to  carry  nothing  of  the  author  about  them  but  the  reputation.  It 
is  only  the  inferior  orders  that  herd  together,  acquire  strength  and 
importance  by  their  confederacies,  and  bear  all  the  distinctive 
characteristics  of  their  species." 


A  LITERARY  DINNER. 

A  FEW  days  after  this  conversation  with  Mr.  Buckthorne,  he 
called  upon  me,  and  took  me  with  him  to  a  regular  literary  din 
ner.  It  was  given  by  a  great  bookseller,  or  rather  a  company  of 
booksellers,  whose  firm  surpassed  in  length  that  of  Shadrach, 
Meshech,  and  Abednego. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  between  twenty  and  thirty  guests 
assembled,  most  of  whom  I  had  never  seen  before.  Mr.  Buck 
thorne  explained  this  to  me,  by  informing  me  that  this  was  a 
business  dinner,  or  kind  of  field-day,  which  the  house  gave  about 
twice  a  year  to  its  authors.  It  is  true  they  did  occasionally  give 
snug  dinners  to  three  or  four  literary  men  at  a  time ;  but  then 
these  were  generally  select  authors,  favorites  of  the  public,  such 
as  had  arrived  at  their  sixth  or  seventh  editions.  "  There  are," 
said  he,  "  certain  geographical  boundaries  in  the  land  of  litera 
ture,  and  you  may  judge  tolerably  well  of  an  author's  popularity 
by  the  wine  his  bookseller  gives  him.  An  author  crosses  the 
port  line  about  the  third  edition,  and  gets  into  claret ;  and  when 
he  has  reached  the  sixth  or  seventh,  he  may  revel  in  champagne 
and  burgundy." 

"And  pray,"  said  I,  "how  far  may  these  gentlemen  have 
reached  that  I  see  around  me ;  are  any  of  these  claret  drinkers  ?" 

"  Not  exactly,  not  exactly.  You  find  at  these  great  dinners 
the  common  steady  run  of  authors,  one  or  two  edition  men  ;  or  if 


A  LITERARY   DINNER.  123 


any  others  are  invited,  they  are  aware  that  it  is  a  kind  of  repub 
lican  meeting. — You  understand  me — a  meeting  of  the  republic 
of  letters  ;  and  that  they  must  expect  nothing  but  plain  substan 
tial  fare." 

These  hints  enabled  me  to  comprehend  more  fully  the  ar 
rangement  of  the  table.  The  two  ends  were  occupied  by  two 
partners  of  the  house ;  and  the  host  seemed  to  have  adopted 
Addison's  idea  as  to  the  literary  precedence  of  his  guests.  A 
popular  poet  had  the  post  of  honor ;  opposite  to  whom  was  a 
hot-pressed  traveller  in  quarto  with  plates.  A  grave-looking  anti 
quarian,  who  had  produced  several  solid  works,  that  were  much 
quoted  and  little  read,  was  treated  with  great  respect,  and  seated 
next  to  a  neat  dressy  gentleman  in  black,  who  had  written  a  thin, 
genteel,  hot-pressed  octavo  on  political  economy,  that  was  getting 
into  fashion.  Several  three-volumed  duodecimo  men,  of  fair 
currency,  were  placed  about  the  centre  of  the  table ;  while  the 
lower  end  was  taken  up  with  small  poets,  translators,  and  authors 
who  had  not  as  yet  risen  into  much  notoriety. 

The  conversation  during  dinner  was  by  fits  and  starts ;  break 
ing  out  here  and  there  in  various  parts  of  the  table  in  small 
flashes,  and  ending  in  smoke.  The  poet,  who  had  the  confidence 
of  a  man  on  good  terms  with  the  world,  and  independent  of  his 
bookseller,  was  very  gay  and  brilliant,  and  said  many  clever 
things  which  set  the  partner  next  him  in  a  roar,  and  delighted 
all  the  company.  The  other  partner,  however,  maintained  his 
sedateness,  and  kept  carving  on,  with  the  air  of  a  thorough  man 
of  business,  intent  upon  the  occupation  of  the  moment.  His 
gravity  was  explained  to  me  by  my  friend  Buckthorne.  He 
informed  me  that  the  concerns  of  the  house  were  admirably  dis 
tributed  among  the  partners.  "Thus,  for  instance,"  said  he, 


124  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


si  the  grave  gentleman  is  the  carving  partner,  who  attends  to  the 
joints ;  and  the  other  is  the  laughing  partner,  who  attends  to  the 
jokes." 

The  general  conversation  was  chiefly  carried  on  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  table,  as  the  authors  there  seemed  to  possess  the  great 
est  courage  of  the  tongue.  As  to  the  crew  at  the  lower  end,  if 
they  did  not  make  much  figure  in  talking,  they  did  in  eating. 
Never  was  there  a  more  determined,  inveterate,  thoroughly  sus 
tained  attack  on  the  trencher  than  by  this  phalanx  of  masticators. 
When  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  the  wine  began  to  circulate, 
they  grew  very  merry  and  jocose  among  themselves.  Their 
jokes,  however,  if  by  chance  any  of  them  reached  the  upper  end 
of  the  table,  seldom  produced  much  effect.  Even  the  laughing 
partner  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  honor  them  with  a  smile ; 
which  my  neighbor  Buckthorne  accounted  for,  by  informing  me 
that  there  was  a  certain  degree  of  popularity  to  be  obtained  before 
a  bookseller  could  afford  to  laugh  at  an  author's  jokes. 

Among  this  crew  of  questionable  gentlemen  thus  seated  below 
the  salt,  my  eye  singled  out  one  in  particular.  He  was  rather 
shabbily  dressed ;  though  he  had  evidently  made  the  most  of  a 
rusty  black  coat,  and  wore  his  shirt-frill  plaited  and  puffed  out 
voluminously  at  the  bosom.  His  face  was  dusky,  but  florid,  per 
haps  a  little  too  florid,  particularly  about  the  nose ;  though  the 
rosy  hue  gave  the  greater  lustre  to  a  twinkling  black  eye.  He 
had  a  little  the  look  of  a  boon  companion,  with  that  dash  of  the 
poor  devil  in  it  which  gives  an  inexpressibly  mellow  tone  to  a 
man's  humor.  I  had  seldom  seen  a  face  of  richer  promise ;  but 
never  was  promise  so  ill  kept.  He  said  nothing,  ate  and  drank 
with  the  keen  appetite  of  a  garreteer,  and  scarcely  stopped  to 
laugh,  even  at  the  good  jokes  from  the  upper  end  of  the  table.  I 


A  LITERARY  DINNER.  125 


inquired  who  he  was.  Buckthorne  looked  at  him  attentively : 
"  Gad,"  said  he,  "  I  have  seen  that  face  before,  but  where  I  can 
not  recollect.  He  cannot  be  an  author  of  any  note.  I  suppose 
some  writer  of  sermons,  or  grinder  of  foreign  travels." 

After  dinner  we  retired  to  another  room  to  take  tea  and  cof 
fee,  where  we  were  reinforced  by  a  cloud  of  inferior  guests, — 
authors  of  small  volumes  in  boards,  and  pamphlets  stitched  in 
blue  paper.  These  had  not  as  yet  arrived  to  the  importance  of  a 
dinner  invitation,  but  were  invited  occasionally  to  pass  the  even 
ing  in  a  friendly  way.  They  were  very  respectful  to  the  part 
ners,  and,  indeed,  seemed  to  stand  a  little  in  awe  of  them ;  but 
they  paid  devoted  court  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  were  extra 
vagantly  fond  of  the  children.  Some  few,  who  did  not  feel  confi 
dence  enough  to  make  such  advances,  stood  shyly  off  in  corners, 
talking  to  one  another;  or  turned  over  the  portfolios  of  prints 
which  they  had  not  seen  above  five  thousand  times,  or  moused 
over  the  music  on  the  forte-piano. 

The  poet  and  the  thin  octavo  gentleman  were  the  persons 
most  current  and  at  their  ease  in  the  drawing-room ;  being  men 
evidently  of  circulation  in  the  West  End.  They  got  on  each  side 
of  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  paid  her  a  thousand  compliments 
and  civilities,  at  some  of  which  I  thought  she  would  have  expired 
with  delight.  Every  thing  they  said  and  did  had  the  odor  of 
fashionable  life.  I  looked  round  in  vain  for  the  poor  devil  author 
in  the  rusty  black  coat ;  he  had  disappeared  immediately  after 
leaving  the  table,  having  a  dread,  no  doubt,  of  the  glaring  light 
of  a  drawing-room.  Finding  nothing  further  to  interest  my 
attention,  I  took  my  departure  soon  after  coffee  had  been  served, 
leaving  the  poet,  and  the  thin,  genteel  hot-pressed  octavo  gentle 
man,  masters  of  the  field. 


THE  CLUB  OF  QUEER  FELLOWS. 

I  THINK  it  was  the  very  next  evening  that,  in  coming  out  of  Co- 
vent  Garden  Theatre  with  my  eccentric  friend  Buckthorne,  he 
proposed  to  give  me  another  peep  at  life  and  character.  Finding 
me  willing  for  any  research  of  the  kind,  he  took  me  through  a 
variety  of  the  narrow  courts  and  lanes  about  Covent  Garden, 
until  we  stopped  before  a  tavern  from  which  we  heard  the  bursts 
of  merriment  of  a  jovial  party.  There  would  be  a  loud  peal  of 
laughter,  then  an  interval,  then  another  peal,  as  if  a  prime  wag 
were  telling  a  story.  After  a  little  while  there  was  a  song,  and 
at  the  close  of  each  stanza  a  hearty  roar,  and  a  vehement  thump 
ing  on  the  table. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  whispered  Buckthorne  ;  "  it  is  the  club 
of  queer  fellows,  a  great  resort  of  the  small  wits,  third-rate  actors, 
and  newspaper  critics  of  the  theatres.  Any  one  can  go  in  on 
paying  a  sixpence  at  the  bar  for  the  use  of  the  club." 

We  entered,  therefore,  without  ceremony,  and  took  our  seats 
at  a  lone  table  in  a  dusky  corner  of  the  room.  The  club  was  as 
sembled  round  a  table,  on  which  stood  beverages  of  various  kinds, 
according  to  the  tastes  of  the  individuals.  The  members  were  a 
set  of  queer  fellows  indeed ;  but  what  was  my  surprise  on  recog 
nizing,  in  the  prime  wit  of  the  meeting,  the  poor-devil  author 
whom  I  had  remarked  at  the  booksellers'  dinner  for  his  promising 
face  and  his  complete  taciturnity.  Matters,  however,  were  en- 


THE  CLUB   OF   QUEER  FELLOWS.  127 


tirely  changed  with  him.  There  he  was  a  mere  cipher ;  here 
he  was  lord  of  the  ascendant,  the  choice  spirit,  the  dominant 
genius.  He  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  with  his  hat  on,  and  an 
eye  beaming  even  more  luminously  than  his  nose.  He  had  a 
quip  and  a  fillip  for  every  one,  and  a  good  thing  on  every  occa 
sion.  Nothing  could  be  said  or  done  without  eliciting  a  spark 
from  him  :  and  I  solemnly  declare  I  have  heard  much  worse  wit 
even  from  noblemen.  His  jokes,  it  must  be  confessed,  were  \ 
rather  wet,  but  they  suited  the  circle  over  which  he  presided.  1 
The  company  were  in  that  maudlin  mood,  when  a  little  wit  goes 
a  great  way.  Every  time  he  opened  his  lips  there  was  sure  to 
be  a  roar ;  and  even  sometimes  before  he  had  time  to  speak. 

We  were  fortunate  enough  to  enter  in  time  for  a  glee  com 
posed  by  him  expressly  for  the  club,  and  which  he  sang  with  two 
boon  companions,  who  would  have  been  worthy  subjects  for  Ho 
garth's  pencil.  As  they  were  each  provided  with  a  written  copy, 
I  was  enabled  to  procure  the  reading  of  it. 

Merrily,  merrily  push  round  the  glass, 

And  merrily  troll  the  glee, 
For  he  who  won't  drink  till  he  wink,  is  an  ass, 

So,  neighbor,  I  drink  to  thee. 

Merrily,  merrily  fuddle  thy  nose, 

Until  it  right  rosy  shall  be  ; 
For  a  jolly  red  nose,  I  speak  under  the  rose, 

Is  a  sign  of  good  company. 

We  waited  until  the  party  broke  up,  and  no  one  but  the  wit 
remained.  He  sat  at  the  table  with  his  legs  stretched  under  it, 
and  wide  apart ;  his  hands  in  his  breeches  pockets ;  his  head 


128  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


drooped  upon  his  breast ;  and  gazing  with  lacklustre  countenance 
on  an  empty  tankard.  His  gayety  was  gone,  his  fire  completely 
quenched. 

My  companion  approached,  and  startled  him  from  his  fit  of 
brown  study,  introducing  himself  on  the  strength  of  their  having 
dined  together  at  the  booksellers'. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  he,  "  it  seems  to  me  I  have  seen  you  be 
fore  ;  your  face  is  surely  that  of  an  old  acquaintance,  though  for 
the  life  of  me  I  cannot  tell  where  I  have  known  you." 

"  Very  likely,"  replied  he,  with  a  smile  ;  "  many  of  my  old 
friends  have  forgotten  me.  Though,  to  tell  the  truth,  my  memory 
in  this  instance  is  as  bad  as  your  own.  If,  however,  it  will  assist 
your  recollection  in  any  way,  my  name  is  Thomas  Dribble,  at 
your  service." 

"  What !  Tom  Dribble,  who  was  at  old  Birchell's  school  in 
Warwickshire  ?" 

"  The  same,"  said  the  other,  coolly. 

"  Why,  then,  we  are  old  schoolmates,  though  it's  no  wonder 
you  don't  recollect  me.  I  was  your  junior  by  several  years  ; 
don't  you  recollect  little  Jack  Buckthorne  ?" 

Here  there  ensued  a  scene  of  a  school-fellow  recognition,  and 
a  world  of  talk  about  old  school  times  and  school  pranks.  Mr. 
Dribble  ended  by  observing,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  that  times  were 
sadly  changed  since  those  days." 

"  Faith,  Mr.  Dribble,"  said  I,  "  you  seem  quite  a  different 
man  here  from  what  you  were  at  dinner.  I  had  no  idea  that  you 
had  so  much  stuff  in  you.  There  you  were  all  silence,  but  here 
you  absolutely  keep  the  table  in  a  roar." 

"  Ah !  my  dear  sir,"  replied  he,  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  and 
a  shrug  of  the  shoulder,  "  I  am  a  mere  glow-worm.  I  never 


THE   CLUB   OF   QUEER   FELLOWS.  129 


shine  by  daylight.  Besides,  it's  a  hard  thing  for  a  poor  devil  of 
an  author  to  shine  at  the  table  of  a  rich  bookseller.  Who  do  you 
think  would  laugh  at  any  thing  I  could  say,  when  I  had  some  of 
the  current  wits  of  the  day  about  me  ?  But  here,  though  a  poor 
devil,  I  am  among  still  poorer  devils  than  myself;  men  who  look 
up  to  me  as  a  man  of  letters,  and  a  belle-esprit,  and  all  my  jokes 
pass  as  sterling  gold  from  the  mint." 

"  You  surely  do  yourself  injustice,  sir,"  said  I ;  "  I  have  cer 
tainly  heard  more  good  things  from  you  this  evening,  than  from 
any  of  those  beaux-esprits  by  whom  you  appear  to  have  been  so 
daunted." 

"  Ah,  si*!  but  they  have  luck  on  their  side  :  they  are  in  the 
fashion — there's  nothing  like  being  in  fashion.  A  man  that  has 
once  got  his  character  up  for  a  wit  is  always  sure  of  a  laugh,  say 
what  he  may.  He  may  utter  as  much  nonsense  as  he  pleases, 
and  all  will  pass  current.  No  one  stops  to  question  the  coin  of  a 
rich  man ;  but  a  poor  devil  cannot  pass  off  either  a  joke  or  a 
guinea,  without  its  being  examined  on  both  sides.  Wit  and  coin 
are  always  doubted  with  a  threadbare  coat." 

"  For  my  part,"  continued  he,  giving  his  hat  a  twitch  a  little 
more  on  one  side, — "  for  my  part,  I  hate  your  fine  dinners  ;  there's 
nothing,  sir,  like  the  freedom  of  a  chop-house.  I'd  rather  any 
time,  have  my  steak  and  tankard  among  my  own  set,  than  drink 
claret  and  eat  venison  with  your  cursed  civil,  elegant  company, 
who  never  laugh  at  a  good  joke  from  a  poor  devil  for  fear  of  its 
being  vulgar.  A  good  joke  grows  in  a  wet  soil ;  it  flourishes  in 
low  places,  but  withers  on  your  d — d  high,  dry  grounds.  I  once 
kept  high  company,  sir,  until  I  nearly  ruined  myself;  I  grew  so 
dull,  and  vapid,  and  genteel.  Nothing  saved  me  but  being  ar 
rested  by  my  landlady,  and  thrown  into  prison  ;  where  a  course 

6* 


130  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


of  catch-clubs,  eightpenny  ale,  and  poor  devil  company,  manured 
my  mind,  and  brought  it  back  to  itself  again." 

As  it  was  now  growing  late,  we  parted  for  the  evening, 
though  I  felt  anxious  to  know  more  of  this  practical  philosopher. 
I  was  glad,  therefore,  when  Buckthorne  proposed  to  have  another 
meeting,  to  talk  over  old  school  times,  and  inquired  his  school 
mate's  address.  The  latter  seemed  at  first  a  little  shy  of  naming 
his  lodgings  ;  but  suddenly,  assuming  an  air  of  hardihood — 
"  Green-arbor  court,  sir,"  exclaimed  he — "  Number — in  Green- 
arbor  court.  You  must  know  the  place.  Classic  ground,  sir, 
classic  ground !  It  was  there  Goldsmith  wrote  his  Vicar  of 
AVakefield — I  always  like  to  live  in  literary  haunts."* 

I  was  amused  with  this  whimsical  apology  for  shabby  quar 
ters.  On  our  way  homeward,  Buckthorne  assured  me  that  this 
Dribble  had  been  the  prime  wit  and  great  wag  of  the  school  in 
their  boyish  days,  and  one  of  those  unlucky  urchins  denominated 
bright  geniuses.  As  he  perceived  me  curious  respecting  his  old 
schoolmate,  he  promised  to  take  me  with  him  in  his  proposed  visit 
to  Green-arbor  court. 

A  few  mornings  afterward  he  called  upon  me,  and  we  set  forth 
on  our  expedition.  He  led  me  through  a  variety  of  singular 
alleys,  and  courts,  and  blind  passages  ;  for  he  appeared  to  be  per 
fectly  versed  in  all  the  intricate  geography  of  the  metropolis.  At 
length  we  came  out  upon  Fleet-market,  and  traversing  it,  turned 
up  a  narrow  street  to  the  bottom  of  a  long  steep  flight  of  stone 
steps,  called  Break-neck-stairs.  These,  he  told  me,  led  up  to 
Green-arbor  court,  and  that  down  them  poor  Goldsmith  might 
many  a  time  have  risked  his  neck.  When  we  entered  the  court, 
I  could  not  but  smile  to  think  in  what  out-of-the-way  corners  ge 
nius  produces  her  bantlings !  And  the  muses,  those  capricious 


THE  CLUB  OF  QUEER  FELLOWS.         131 


dames,  who,  forsooth,  so  often  refuse  to  visit  palaces,  and  deny  a 
single  smile  to  votaries  in  splendid  studies,  and  gilded  drawing- 
rooms, — what  holes  and  burrows  will  they  frequent  to  lavish  their 
favors  on  some  ragged  disciple  ! 

This  Green-arbor  court  I  found  to  be  a  small  square,  sur 
rounded  by  tall  and  miserable  houses,  the  very  intestines  of  which 
seemed  turned  inside  out,  to  judge  from  the  old  garments  and 
frippery  fluttering  from  every  window.  It  appeared  to  be  a  re 
gion  of  washerwomen,  and  lines  were  stretched  about  the  little 
square,  on  which  clothes  were  dangling  to  dry. 

Just  as  we  entered  the  square,  a  scuffle  took  place  between 
two  viragos  about  a  disputed  right  to  a  wash-tub,  and  immediately 
the  whole  community  was  in  a  hubbub.  Heads  in  mob-caps  pop 
ped  out  of  every  window,  and  such  a  clamor  of  tongues  ensued, 
that  I  was  fain  to  stop  my  ears.  Every  amazon  took  part  with 
one  or  other  of  the  disputants,  and  brandished  her  arms,  dripping 
with  soap-suds,  and  fired  away  from  her  window  as  from  the  em- 
brazure  of  a  fortress  ;  while  the  swarms  of  children  nestled  and 
cradled  in  every  procreant  chamber  of  this  hive,  waking  with  the 
noise,  set  up  their  shrill  pipes  to  swell  the  general  concert. 

Poor  Goldsmith !  what  a  time  must  he  have  had  of  it,  with 
his  quiet  disposition  and  nervous  habits,  penned  up  in  this  den  of 
noise  and  vulgarity  !  How  strange,  that  while  every  sight  and 
sound  was  sufficient  to  embitter  the  heart,  and  fill  it  with  misan 
thropy,  his  pen  should  be  dropping  the  honey  of  Hybla  !  Yet  it 
is  more  than  probable  that  he  drew  many  of  his  inimitable  pic 
tures  of  low  life  from  the  scenes  which  surrounded  him  in  this 
abode.  The  circumstance  of  Mrs.  Tibbs  being  obliged  to  wash 
her  husband's  two  shirts  in  a  neighbor's  hofise,  who  refused  to 
lend  her  wash-tub,  may  have  been  no  sport  of  fancy,  but  a  fact 


132  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


passing  under  his  own  eye.  His  landlady  may  have  sat  for  the 
picture,  and  Beau  Tibbs'  scanty  wardrobe  have  been  a  fac-simile 
of  his  own. 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  we  found  our  way  to  Dribble's 
lodgings.  They  were  up  two  pair  of  stairs,  in  a  room  that  looked 
upon  the  court,  and  when  we  entered,  he  was  seated  on  the  edge 
of  his  bed,  writing  at  a  broken  table.  He  received  us,  however, 
with  a  free,  open,  poor-devil  air,  that  was  irresistible.  It  is  true 
he  did  at  first  appear  slightly  confused ;  buttoned  up  his  waistcoat 
a  little  higher,  and  tucked  in  a  stray  frill  of  linen.  But  he  re 
collected  himself  in  an  instant ;  gave  a  half  swagger,  half  leer,  as 
he  stepped  forth  to  receive  us ;  drew  a  three-legged  stool  for 
Mr.  Buckthorne ;  pointed  me  to  a  lumbering  old  damask  chair, 
that  looked  like  a  dethroned  monarch  in  exile  ;  and  bade  us  wel 
come  to  his  garret. 

We  soon  got  engaged  in  conversation.  Buckthorne  and  he 
had  much  to  say  about  early  school  scenes  ;  and  as  nothing  opens 
a  man's  heart  more  than  recollections  of  the  kind,  we  soon  drew 
from  him  a  brief  outline  of  his  literary  career. 


THE  POOR-DEVIL  AUTHOR. 

I  BEGAN  life  unluckily  by  being  the  wag  and  bright  fellow  at 
school ;  and  I  had  the  further  misfortune  of  becoming  the  great 
genius  of  my  native  village.  My  father  was  a  country  attorney, 
and  intended  I  should  succeed  him  in  business ;  but  I  had  too 
much  genius  to  study,  and  he  was  too  fond  of  my  genius  to  force 
it  into  the  traces;  so  I  fell  into. bad  company,  and  took  to  bad 
habits.  Do  not  mistake  me.  I  mean  that  I  fell  into  the  com 
pany  of  village  literati,  and  village  blues,  and  took  to  writing 
village  poetry. 

It  was  quite  the  fashion  in  the  village  to  be  literary.  There 
was  a  little  knot  of  choice  spirits  of  us,  who  assembled  frequently 
together,  formed  ourselves  into  a  Literary,  Scientific,  and  Philo 
sophical  Society,  and  fancied  ourselves  the  most  learned  Philos 
in  existence.  Every  one  had  a  great  character  assigned  him, 
suggested  by  some  casual  habit  or  affectation.  One  heavy  fellow 
drank  an  enormous  quantity  of  tea,  rolled  in  his  arm-chair,  talked 
sententiously,  pronounced  dogmatically,  and  was  considered  a 
second  Dr.  Johnson  ;  another,  who  happened  to  be  a  curate,  ut 
tered  coarse  jokes,  wrote  doggerel  rhymes,  and  was  the  Swift  of 
our  association.  Thus  we  had  also  our  Popes,  and  Goldsmiths, 
and  Addisons;  and  a  blue-stocking  lady,  whose  drawing-room 
we  frequented,  who  corresponded  about  nothing  with  all  the 


134  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


world,  and  wrote  letters  with  the  stiffness  and  formality  of  a 
printed  book,  was  cried  up  as  another  Mrs.  Montagu.  I  was,  by 
common  consent,  the  juvenile  prodigy,  the  poetical  youth,  the 
great  genius,  the  pride  and  hope  of  the  village,  through  whom  it 
was  to  become  one  day  as  celebrated  as  Stratford  on  Avon. 

My  father  died,  and  left  me  his  blessing  and  his  business. 
His  blessing  brought  no  money  into  my  pocket ;  and  as  to  his 
business,  it  soon  deserted  me  ;  for  I  was  busy  writing  poetry,  and 
could  not  attend  to  law,  and  my  clients,  though  they  had  great 
respect  for  my  talents,  had  no  faith  in  a  poetical  attorney. 

I  lost  my  business,  therefore,  spent  my  money,  and  finished 
my  poem.  It  was  the  Pleasures  of  Melancholy,  and  was  cried 
up  to  the  skies  by  the  whole  circle.  The  Pleasures  of  Imagina 
tion,  the  Pleasures  of  Hope,  and  the  Pleasures  of  Memory, 
though  each  had  placed  its  author  in  the  first  rank  of  poets,  were 
blank  prose  in  comparison.  Oar  Mrs.  Montagu  would  cry  over 
it  from  beginning  to  end.  It  was  pronounced  by  all  the  members 
of  the  Literary,  Scientific,  and  Philosophical  Society,  the  greatest 
poem  of  the  age,  and  all  anticipated  the  noise  it  would  make  in 
the  great  world.  There  was  not  a  doubt  but  the  London  book 
sellers  would  be  mad  after  it,  and  the  only  fear  of  my  friends  was, 
that  I  would  make  a  sacrifice  by  selling  it  too  cheap.  Every 
time  they  talked  the  matter  over,  they  increased  the  price.  They 
reckoned  up  the  great  sums  given  for  the  poems  of  certain  popu 
lar  writers,  and  determined  that  mine  was  worth  more  than  all 
put  together,  and  ought  to  be  paid  for  accordingly.  For  my  part, 
I  was  modest  in  my  expectations,  and  determined  that  I  would  be 
satisfied  with  a  thousand  guineas.  So  I  put  my  poem  in  my 
pocket,  and  set  off  for  London. 

My  journey  was  joyous.     My  heart  was  light  as  my  purse, 


THE  POOR-DEVIL  AUTHOR.  135 


and  my  head  full  of  anticipations  of  fame  and  fortune.  With 
what  swelling  pride  did  I  cast  my  eyes  upon  old  London  from  the 
heights  of  Highgate  !  I  was  like  a  general,  looking  down  upon 
a  place  he  expects  to  conquer.  The  great  metropolis  lay  stretched 
before  me,  buried  under  a  home-made  cloud  of  murky  smoke, 
that  wrapped  it  from  the  brightness  of  a  sunny  day,  and  formed 
for  it  a  kind  of  artificial  bad  weather.  At  the  outskirts  of  the 
city,  away  to  the  west,  the  smoke  gradually  decreased  until  all 
was  clear  and  sunny,  and  the  view  stretched  uninterrupted  to  the 
blue  line  of  the  Kentish  hills. 

My  eye  turned  fondly  to  where  the  mighty  cupola  of  St.  Paul 
swelled  dimly  through  this  misty  chaos,  and  I  pictured  to  myself 
the  solemn  realm  of  learning  that  lies  about  its  base.  How  soon 
should  the  Pleasures  of  Melancholy  throw  this  world  of  book 
sellers  and  printers  into  a  bustle  of  business  and  delight !  How 
soon  should  I  hear  my  name  repeated  by  printers'  devils  through 
out  Paternoster-row,  and  Angel-court,  and  Ave-Maria-lane,  until 
Amen-corner  should  echo  back  the  sound ! 

Arrived  in  town,  I  repaired  at  once  to  the  most  fashionable 
publisher.  Every  new  author  patronizes  him  of  course.  In 
fact,  it  had  been  determined  in  the  village  circle  that  he  should 
be  the  fortunate  man.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  vaingloriously  I 
walked  the  streets.  My  head  was  in  the  clouds.  I  felt  the  airs 
of  heaven  playing  about  it,  and  fancied  it  already  encircled  by  a 
halo  of  literary  glory.  As  I  passed  by  the  windows  of  book 
shops,  I  anticipated  the  time  when  my  work  would  be  shining 
among  the  hot-pressed  wonders  of  the  day  ;  and  my  face,  scratched 
on  copper,  or  cut  on  wood,  figuring  in  fellowship  with  those  of 
Scott,  and  Byron,  and  Moore. 

When  I  applied  at  the  publisher's  house,  there  was  something 


136  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


in  the  loftiness  of  my  air,  and  the  dinginess  of  my  dress,  that 
struck  the  clerks  with  reverence.  They  doubtless  took  me  for 
some  person  of  consequence ;  probably  a  digger  of  Greek  roots,  or 
a  penetrater  of  pyramids.  A  proud  man  in  a  dirty  shirt  is  always 
an  imposing  character  in  the  world  of  letters ;  one  must  feel  in 
tellectually  secure  before  he  can  venture  to  dress  shabbily ;  none 
but  a  great  genius,  or  a  great  scholar,  dares  to  be  dirty  ;  so  I  was 
ushered  at  once  to  the  sanctum  sanctorum  of  this  high  priest 
of  Minerva. 

The  publishing  of  books  is  a  very  different  affair  now-a-days 
from  what  it  was  in  the  time  of  Bernard  Lintot,  I  found  the 
publisher  a  fashionably-dressed  man,  in  an  elegant  drawing-room, 
furnished  with  sofas  and  portraits  of  celebrated  authors,  and 
cases  of  splendidly-bound  books.  He  was  writing  letters  at  an 
elegant  table.  This  was  transacting  business  in  style.  The  place 
seemed  suited  to  the  magnificent  publications  that  issued  from  it. 
I  rejoiced  at  the  choice  I  had  made  of  a  publisher,  for  I  always 
liked  to  encourage  men  of  taste  and  spirit. 

I  stepped  up  to  the  table  with  the  lofty  poetical  port  I  had  been 
accustomed  to  maintain  in  our  village  circle  ;  though  I  threw  in 
it  something  of  a  patronizing  air,  such  as  one  feels  when  about  to 
make  a  man's  fortune.  The  publisher  paused  with  his  pen  in 
hand,  and  seemed  waiting  in  mute  suspense  to  know  what  was  to 
be  announced  by  so  singular  an  apparition. 

I  put  him  at  his  ease  in  a  moment,  for  I  felt  that  I  had  but 
to  come,  see,  and  conquer.  I  made  known  my  name,  and  the 
name  of  my  poem ;  produced  my  precious  roll  of  blotted  manu 
script  ;  laid  it  on  the  table  with  an  emphasis ;  and  told  him  at 
once,  to  save  time,  and  come  directly  to  the  point,  the  price  was 
one  thousand  guineas. 


THE  POOR-DEVIL  AUTHOR.  137 


I  had  given  him  no  time  to  speak,  nor  did  he  seem  so  inclined. 
He  continued  looking  at  me  for  a  moment  with  an  air  of  whimsi 
cal  perplexity ;  scanned  me  from  head  to  foot ;  looked  down  at 
the  manuscript,  then  up  again  at  me,  then  pointed  to  a  chair ;  and 
whistling  softly  to  himself,  went  on  writing  his  letter. 

I  sat  for  some  time  waiting  his  reply,  supposing  he  was  ma 
king  up  his  mind  ;  but  he  only  paused  occasionally  to  take  a  fresh 
dip  of  ink,  to  stroke  his  chin,  or  the  tip  of  his  nose,  and  then  re 
sumed  his  writing.  It  was  evident  his  mind  was  intently  occu 
pied  upon  some  other  subject ;  but  I  had  no  idea  that  any  other 
subject  should  be  attended  to,  and  my  poem  lie  unnoticed  on  the 
table.  I  had  supposed  that  every  thing  would  make  way  for  the 
Pleasures  of  Melancholy. 

My  gorge  at  length  rose  within  me.  I  took  up  my  manu 
script,  thrust  it  into  my  pocket,  and  walked  out  of  the  room ; 
making  some  noise  as  I  went  out,  to  let  my  departure  be  heard. 
The  publisher,  however,  was  too  much  buried  in  minor  concerns 
to  notice  it.  I  was  suffered  to  walk  down  stairs  without  being 
called  back.  I  sallied  forth  into  the  street,  but  no  clerk  was  sent 
after  me ;  nor  did  the  publisher  call  after  me  from  the  drawing- 
room  window.  I  have  been  told  since,  that  he  considered  me 
either  a  madman  or  a  fool.  I  leave  you  to  judge  how  much  he 
was  in  the  wrong  in  his  opinion. 

When  I  turned  the  corner  my  crest  fell.  I  cooled  down  in 
my  pride  and  my  expectations,  and  reduced  my  terms  with  the 
next  bookseller  to  whom  I  applied.  I  had  no  better  success ; 
nor  with  a  third,  nor  with  a  fourth.  I  then  desired  the  booksel 
lers  to  make  an  offer  themselves ;  but  the  deuce  an  offer  would 
they  make.  They  told  me  poetry  was  a  mere  drug ;  every  body 


138  TALES  OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


wrote  poetry ;  the  market  was  overstocked  with.  it.  And  then 
they  said,  the  title  of  my  poem  was  not  taking ;  that  pleasures 
of  all  kinds  were  worn  threadbare,  nothing  but  horrors  did  now- 
a-days,  and  even  those  were  almost  worn  out.  Tales  of  Pirates, 
Robbers,  and  bloody  Turks,  might  answer  tolerably  well;  but 
then  they  must  come  from  some  established  well-known  name,  or 
the  public  would  not  look  at  them. 

At  last  I  offered  to  leave  my  poem  with  a  bookseller,  to  read 

it,  and  judge  for  himself.  "  Why,  really,  my  dear  Mr. a — a 

— I  forget  your  name,"  said  he,  casting  an  eye  at  my  rusty  coat 
and  shabby  gaiters,  "  really,  sir,  we  are  so  pressed  with  business 
just  now,  and  have  so  many  manuscripts  on  hand  to  read,  that 
we  have  not  time  to  look  at  any  new  productions  ;  but  if  you  can 
call  again  in  a  week  or  two,  or  say  the  middle  of  next  month,  we 
may  be  able  to  look  over  your  writings,  and  give  you  an  answer. 
Don't  forget,  the  month  after  next ;  good  morning,  sir ;  happy  to 
see  you  any  time  you  are  passing  this  way."  So  saying,  he 
bowed  me  out  in  the  civilest  way  imaginable.  In  short,  sir,  in 
stead  of  an  eager  competition  to  secure  my  poem,  I  could  not 
even  get  it  read !  In  the  meantime  I  was  harassed  by  letters 
from  my  friends,  wanting  to  know  when  the  work  was  to  appear ; 
who  was  to  be  my  publisher ;  but  above  all  things,  warning  me 
not  to  let  it  go  too  cheap. 

There  was  but  one  alternative  left.  I  determined  to  publish 
the  poem  myself;  and  to  have  my  triumph  over  the  booksellers, 
when  it  should  become  the  fashion  of  the  day.  I  accordingly 
published  the  Pleasures  of  Melancholy,  and  ruined  myself.  Ex 
cepting  the  copies  sent  to  the  reviews,  and  to  my  friends  in  the 
country,  not  one,  I  believe,  ever  left  the  bookseller's  warehouse. 


THE  POOR-DEVIL  AUTHOR.  139 


The  printer's  bill  drained  my  purse,  and  the  only  notice  that  was 
taken  of  my  work,  was  contained  in  the  advertisements  paid  for 
by  myself. 

I  could  have  borne  all  this,  and  have  attributed  it,  as  usual,  to 
the  mismanagement  of  the  publisher,  or  the  want  of  taste  in  the 
public ;  and  could  have  made  the  usual  appeal  to  posterity ;  but 
my  village  friends  would  not  let  me  rest  in  quiet.  They  were 
picturing  me  to  themselves  feasting  with  the  great,  communing 
with  the  literary,  and  in  the  high  career  of  fortune  and  renown. 
Every  little  while,  some  one  would  call  on  me  with  a  letter  of  in 
troduction  from  the  village  circle,  recommending  him  to  my  atten 
tions,  and  requesting  that  I  would  make  him  known  in  society ; 
with  a  hint,  that  an  introduction  to  a  celebrated  literary  nobleman 
would  be  extremely  agreeable.  I  determined,  therefore,  to  change 
my  lodgings,  drop  my  correspondence,  and  disappear  altogether 
from  the  view  of  my  village  admirers.  Besides,  I  was  anxious 
to  make  one  more  poetic  attempt.  I  was  by  no  means  disheart 
ened  by  the  failure  of  my  first.  My  poem  was  evidently  too 
didactic.  The  public  was  wise  enough.  It  no  longer  read  for 
instruction.  "  They  want  horrors,  do  they  ?"  said  I :  "  I'faith  ! 
then  they  shall  have  enough  of  them."  So  I  looked  out  for  some 
quiet,  retired  place,  where  I  might  be  out  of  reach  of  my  friends, 
and  have  leisure  to  cook  up  some  delectable  dish  of  poetical 
"hell-broth." 

I  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  a  place  to  my  mind,  when 
chance  threw  me  in  the  way  of  Canonbury  Castle.  It  is  an 
ancient  brick  tower,  hard  by  "  merry  Islington  ;"  the  remains  of 
a  hunting-seat  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  where  she  took  the  pleasure 
of  the  country  when  the  neighborhood  was  all  woodland.  What 


140  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


gave  it  particular  interest  in  my  eyes  was  the  circumstance  that 
it  had  been  the  residence  of  a  poet. 

It  was  here  Goldsmith  resided  when  he  wrote  his  Deserted 
Village.  I  was  shown  the  very  apartment.  It  was  a  relic  of  the 
original  style  of  the  castle,  with  paneled  wrainscots  and  Gothic 
windows.  I  was  pleased  with  its  air  of  antiquity,  and  with  its 
having  been  the  residence  of  poor  Goldy. 

"  Goldsmith  was  a  pretty  poet,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  a  very 
pretty  poet,  though  rather  of  the  old  school.  He  did  not  think 
and  feel  so  strongly  as  is  the  fashion  now-a-days ;  but  had  he 
lived  in  these  times  of  hot  hearts  and  hot  heads,  he  would  no 
doubt  have  written  quite  differently." 

In  a  few  days  I  was  quietly  established  in  my  new  quarters ; 
my  books  all  arranged ;  my  writing-desk  placed  by  a  window 
looking  out  into  the  fields  ;  and  I  felt  as  snug  as  Robinson  Crusoe, 
when  he  had  finished  his  bower.  For  several  days  I  enjoyed 
all  the  novelty  of  change  and  the  charms  which  grace  new  lodg 
ings,  before  one  has  found  out  their  defects.  I  rambled  about 
the  fields  where  I  fancied  Goldsmith  had  rambled.  I  explored 
merry  Islington;  ate  my  solitary  dinner  at  the  Black  Bull, 
which,  according  to  tradition,  was  a  country-seat  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh;  and  would  sit  and  sip  my  wine,  and  muse  on  old 
times,  in  a  quaint  old  room,  where  many  a  council  had  been  held. 

All  this  did  very  well  for  a  few  days.  I  was  stimulated  by 
novelty ;  inspired  by  the  associations  awakened  in  my  mind  by 
these  curious  haunts  ;  and  began  to  think  I  felt  the  spirit  of  com 
position  stirring  within  me.  But  Sunday  came,  and  with  it  the 
whole  city  world,  swarming  about  Canonbury  Castle.  I  could 
not  open  my  window  but  I  was  stunned  with  shouts  and  noises 


THE  POOR-DEVIL  AUTHOR.  141 


from  the  cricket-ground  ;  the  late  quiet  road  beneath  my  window 
was  alive  with  the  tread  of  feet  and  clack  of  tongues ;  and,  to 
complete  my  misery,  I  found  that  my  quiet  retreat  was  absolutely 
a  "show  house,"  the  tower  and  its  contents  being  shown  to 
strangers  at  sixpence  a  head. 

There  was  a  perpetual  tramping  up  stairs  of  citizens  and 
their  families,  to  look  about  the  country  from  the  top  of  the 
tower,  and  to  take  a  peep  at  the  city  through  the  telescope,  to 
try  if  they  could  discern  their  own  chimneys.  And  then,  in  the 
midst  of  a  vein  of  thought,  or  a  moment  of  inspiration,  I  was 
interrupted,  and  all  my  ideas  put  to  flight,  by  my  intolerable 
landlady's  tapping  at  the  door,  and  asking  me  if  I  would  "just 
please  to  let  a  lady  and  gentleman  come  in,  to  take  a  look  at  Mr. 
Goldsmith's  room."  If  you  know  any  thing  of  what  an  author's 
study  is,  and  what  an  author  is  himself,  you  must  know  that  there 
was  no  standing  this.  I  put  a  positive  interdict  on  my  room's 
being  exhibited ;  but  then  it  was  shown  when  I  was  absent,  and 
my  papers  put  in  confusion  ;  and,  on  returning  home  one  day,  I 
absolutely  found  a  cursed  tradesman  and  his  daughters  gaping 
over  my  manuscrips,  and  my  landlady  in  a  panic  at  my  appear 
ance.  I  tried  to  make  out  a  little  longer,  by  taking  the  key  in 
my  pocket ;  but  it  would  not  do.  I  overheard  mine  hostess  one 
day  telling  some  of  her  customers  on  the  stairs,  that  the  room 
was  occupied  by  an  author,  who  was  always  in  a  tantrum  if  inter 
rupted  ;  and  I  immediately  perceived,  by  a  slight  noise  at  the 
door,  that  they  were  peeping  at  me  through  the  key-hole.  By 
the  head  of  Apollo,  but  this  was  quite  too  much !  With  all  my 
eagerness  for  fame,  and  my  ambition  of  the  stare  of  the  million, 
I  had  no  idea  of  being  exhibited  by  retail,  at  sixpence  a  head, 
and  that  through  a  key-hole.  So  I  bid  adieu  to  Canonbury  Gas- 


142  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


tie,  merry  Islington,  and  the  haunts  of  poor  Goldsmith,  without 
having  advanced  a  single  line  in  my  labors. 

My  next  quarters  were  at  a  small,  whitewashed  cottage, 
which  stands  not  far  from  Hampstead,  just  on  the  brow  of  a  hill ; 
looking  over  Chalk  Farm  and  Camden  Town,  remarkable  for  the 
rival  houses  of  Mother  Eed  Cap  and  Mother  Black  Cap ;  and  so 
across  Crackscull  Common  to  the  distant  city. 

The  cottage  was  in  nowise  remarkable  in  itself;  but  I  re 
garded  it  with  reverence,  for  it  had  been  the  asylum  of  a  perse 
cuted  author.  Hither  poor  Steele  had  retreated,  and  lain  perdu, 
when  persecuted  by  creditors  and  bailiffs — those  immemorial 
plagues  of  authors  and  free-spirited  gentlemen ;  and  here  he  had 
written  many  numbers  of  the  Spectator.  It  was  hence,  too,  that 
he  had  dispatched  those  little  notes  to  his  lady,  so  full  of  affection 
and  whimsicality,  in  which  the  fond  husband,  the  careless  gentle 
man,  and  the  shifting  spendthrift,  were  so  oddly  blended.  I 
thought,  as  I  first  eyed  the  window  of  his  apartment,  that  I  could 
sit  within  it  and  write  volumes. 

No  such  thing !  It  was  haymaking  season,  and,  as  ill-luck 
would  have  it,  immediately  opposite  the  cottage  was  a  little  ale 
house,  with  the  sign  of  the  Load  of  Hay.  Whether  it  was  there 
in  Steele's  time,  I  cannot  say ;  but  it  set  all  attempts  at  concep 
tion  or  inspiration  at  defiance.  It  was  the  resort  of  all  the  Irish 
haymakers  who  mow  the  broad  fields  in  the  neighborhood ;  and 
of  drovers  and  teamsters  who  travel  that  road.  Here  they  would 
gather  in  the  endless  summer  twilight,  or  by  the  light  of  the  har 
vest  moon,  and  sit  round  a  table  at  the  door ;  and  tipple,  and 
laugh,  and  quarrel,  and  fight,  and  sing  drowsy  songs,  and  dawdle 
away  the  hours,  until  the  deep  solemn  notes  of  St.  Paul's  clock 
would  warn  the  varlets  home. 


THE   POOR-DEVIL   AUTHOR.  143 


In  the  daytime  I  was  still  less  able  to  write.  It  was  broad 
summer.  The  haymakers  were  at  work  in  the  fields,  and  the 
perfume  of  the  new-mown  hay  brought  with  it  the  recollection  of 
my  native  fields.  So,  instead  of  remaining  in  my  room  to  write, 
I  went  wandering  about  Primrose  Hill,  and  Hampstead  Heights, 
and  Shepherd's  Fields,  and  all  those  Arcadian  scenes  so  cele 
brated  by  London  bards.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  many  delicious 
hours  I  have  passed,  lying  on  the  cocks  of  new-mown  hay,  on 
the  pleasant  slopes  of  some  of  those  hills,  inhaling  the  fragrance 
of  the  fields,  while  the  summer-fly  buzzed  about  me,  or  the  grass 
hopper  leaped  into  my  bosom  ;  and  how  I  have  gazed  with  half- 
shut  eye  upon  the  smoky  mass  of  London,  and  listened  to  the 
distant  sound  of  its  population,  and  pitied  the  poor  sons  of  earth, 
toiling  in  its  bowels,  like  Gnomes  in  the  "  dark  gold  mine." 

People  may  say  what  they  please  about  cockney  pastorals, 
but,  after  all,  there  is  a  vast  deal  of  rural  beauty  about  the  west 
ern  vicinity  of  London  ;  and  any  one  that  has  looked  down  upon 
the  valley  of  West  End,  with  its  soft  bosom  of  green  pastur 
age  lying  open  to  the  south,  and  dotted  with  cattle ;  the  steeple 
of  Hampstead  rising  among  rich  groves  on  the  brow  of  the  hill ; 
and  the  learned  height  of  Harrow  in  the  distance ;  will  confess 
that  never  has  he  seen  a  more  absolutely  rural  landscape  in  the 
vicinity  of  a  great  metropolis. 

Still,  however,  I  found  myself  not  a  whit  the  better  off  for 
my  frequent  change  of  lodgings ;  and  I  began  to  discover,  that  in 
literature,  as  in  trade,  the  old  proverb  holds  good,  "  a  rolling  stone 
gathers  no  moss." 

The  tranquil  beauty  of  the  country  played  the  very  vengeance 
with  me.  I  could  not  mount  my  fancy  into  the  termagant  vein. 
I  could  not  conceive,  amidst  the  smiling  landscape,  a  scene  of 


144  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


blood  and  murder ;  and  the  smug  citizens  in  breeches  and  gaiters 
put  all  ideas  of  heroes  and  bandits  out  of  my  brain.  I  could 
think  of  nothing  but  dulcet  subjects,  "  the  Pleasures  of  Spring" — 
"  the  Pleasures  of  Solitude  " — "  the  Pleasures  of  Tranquillity"— 
"  the  Pleasures  of  Sentiment " — nothing  but  pleasures  ;  and  I  had 
the  painful  experience  of  "the  Pleasures  of  Melancholy"  too 
strongly  in  my  recollection  to  be  beguiled  by  them. 

Chance  at  length  befriended  me.  I  had  frequently,  in  my 
ramblings,  loitered  about  Hampstead  Hill,  which  is  a  kind  of 
Parnassus  of  the  metropolis.  At  such  times  I  occasionally  took 
my  dinner  at  Jack  Straw's  Castle.  It  is  a  country  inn  so  named  : 
the  very  spot  where  that  notorious  rebel  and  his  followers  held 
their  council  of  war.  It  is  a  favorite  resort  of  citizens  when 
rurally  inclined,  as  it  commands  fine  fresh  air,  and  a  good  view 
of  the  city.  I  sat  one  day  in  the  public  room  of  this  inn,  rumi 
nating  over  a  beefsteak  and  a  pint  of  port,  when  my  imagination 
kindled  up  with  ancient  and  heroic  images.  I  had  long  wanted 
a  theme  and  a  hero  ;  both  suddenly  broke  upon  my  mind.  I 
determined  to  write  a  poem  on  the  history  of  Jack  Straw.  I  was 
so  full  of  my  subject,  that  I  was  fearful  of  being  anticipated.  I 
wondered  that  none  of  the  poets  of  the  day,  in  their  search  after 
ruffian  heroes,  had  never  thought  of  Jack  Straw.  I  went  to  work 
pell-mell,  blotted  several  sheets  of  paper  with  choice  floating 
thoughts,  and  battles,  and  descriptions,  to  be  ready  at  a  moment's 
warning.  In  a  few  days'  time,  I  sketched  out  the  skeleton  of  my 
poem,  and  nothing  was  wanting  but  to  give  it  flesh  and  blood. 
I  used  to  take  my  manuscript,  and  stroll  about  Caen-wood,  and 
read  aloud  ;  and  would  dine  at  the  Castle,  by  way  of  keeping  up 
the  vein  of  thought. 

I  was  there  one  day,  at  rather  a  late  hour,  in  the  public  room. 


THE   POOR-DEVIL   AUTHOR.  145 

There  was  no  other  company,  but  one  man,  who  sat  enjoying  his 
pint  of  port  at  a  window,  and  noticing  the  passers  by.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  green  shooting-coat,  His  countenance  was  strongly 
marked :  he  had  a  hooked  nose ;  a  romantic  eye,  excepting  that 
it  had  something  of  a  squint ;  and  altogether,  as  I  thought,  a 
poetical  style  of  head.  I  was  quite  taken  with  the  man,  for  you 
must  know  I  am  a  little  of  a  physiognomist ;  I  set  him  down  at 
once  for  either  a  poet  or  a  philosopher. 

As  I  like  to  make  new  acquaintances,  considering  every  man 
a  volume  of  human  nature,  I  soon  fell  into  conversation  with  the 
stranger,  who,  I  was  pleased  to  find,  was  by  no  means  difficult  of 
access.  After  I  had  dined,  I  joined  him  at  the  window,  and  we 
became  so  sociable  that  I  proposed  a  bottle  of  wine  together,  to 
which  he  most  cheerfully  assented. 

I  was  too  full  of  rny  poem  to  keep  long  quiet  on  the  subject, 
and  began  to  talk  about  the  origin  of  the  tavern,  and  the  history 
of  Jack  Straw.  I  found  my  new  acquaintance  to  be  perfectly  at 
home  on  the  topic,  and  to  jump  exactly  with  my  humor  in  every 
respect.  I  became  elevated  by  the  wine  and  the  conversation. 
In  the  fulness  of  an  author's  feelings,  I  told  him  of  iny  projected 
poem,  and  repeated  some  passages,  and  he  was  in  raptures.  Pie 
was  evidently  of  a  strong  poetical  turn. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  filling  my  glass  at  the  same  time,  "  our  poets 
don't  look  at  home.  I  don't  see  why  we  need  go  out  of  old 
England  for  robbers  and  rebels  to  write  about,  I  like  your  Jack 
Straw,  sir, — he's  a  home-made  hero.  I  like  him,  sir — I  like  him 

exceedingly.     He's  English  to  the  backbone — damme Give  me 

honest  old  England  after  all  !     Them's  my  sentiments,  sir." 

"  I  honor  your  sentiment,"  cried  I,  zealously ;  "  it  is  exactly 
my  own.  An  English  ruffian  is  as  good  a  ruffian  for  poetry  as 

7 


146  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


any  in  Italy,  or  Germany,  or  the  Archipelago ;  but  it  is  hard  to 
make  our  poets  think  so." 

"  More  shame  for  them  !"  replied  the  man  in  green.  "  What 
a  plague  would  they  have?  What  have  we  to  do  with  their 
Archipelagos  of  Italy  and  Germany  ?  Haven't  we  heaths  and 
commons  and  highways  on  our  own  little  island — ay,  and  stout 
fellows  to  pad  the  hoof  over  them  too  ?  Stick  to  home,  I  say, — 
them's  my  sentiments. — Come,  sir,  my  service  to  you — I  agree 
with  you  perfectly." 

"  Poets,  in  old  times,  had  right  notions  on  this  subject,"  con 
tinued  I ;  "  witness  the  fine  old  ballads  about  Robin  Hood,  Allan 
a'Dale,  and  other  stanch  blades  of  yore," 

"  Right,  sir,  right,"  interrupted  he ;  "  Robin  Hood !  he  was 
the  lad  to  cry  stand !  to  a  man,  and  never  to  flinch." 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  I,  "  they  had  famous  bands  of  robbers  in  the 
good  old  times ;  those  were  glorious  poetical  days.  The  merry 
crew  of  Sherwood  Forest,  who  led  such  a  roving  picturesque  life 
*  under  the  greenwood  tree.'  I  have  often  wished  to  visit  their 
haunts,  and  tread  the  scenes  of  the  exploits  of  Friar  Tuck,  and 
Clymm  of  the  Clough,  and  Sir  William  of  Cloudeslie." 

"  Nay,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman  in  green,  "  we  have  had  seve 
ral  very  pretty  gangs  since  their  day.  Those  gallant  dogs  that 
kept  about  the  great  heaths  in  the  neighborhood  of  London,  about 
Bagshot,  and  Hounslow  and  Blackheath,  for  instance.  Come,  sir, 
my  service  to  you.  You  don't  drink." 

"  I  suppose,"  cried  I,  emptying  my  glass,  "  I  suppose  you 
have  heard  of  the  famous  Turpin,  who  was  born  in  this  very  vil 
lage  of  Hampstead,  and  who  used  to  lurk  with  his  gang  in  Epping 
Forest  about  a  hundred  years  since  ?" 

"  Have  I  ?"  cried  he,  "  to  be  sure  I  have  !    A  hearty  old  blade 


THE  POOR-DEVIL   AUTHOR.  H7 


that.  Sound  as  pitch.  Old  Turpentine  !  as  we  used  to  call  him. 
A  famous  fine  fellow,  sir." 

"  "Well,  sir,"  continued  I,  "  I  have  visited  Waltham  Abbey 
and  Chingford  Church  merely  from  the  stories  I  heard  when  a 
boy  of  his  exploits  there,  and  I  have  searched  Epping  Forest  for 
the  cavern  where  he  used  to  conceal  himself.  You  must  know," 
added  I,  "  that  I  am  a  sort  of  amateur  of  highwaymen.  They 
were  dashing,  daring  fellows  :  the  best  apologies  that  we  had  for 
the  knights-errant  of  yore.  Ah,  sir !  the  country  has  been  sink 
ing  gradually  into  tameness  and  commonplace.  We  are  losing 
the  old  English  spirit.  The  bold  knights  of  the  Post  have  all 
dwindled  down  into  lurking  footpads  and  sneaking  pickpockets  ; 
there's  no  such  thing  as  a  dashing,  gentleman-like  robbery  com 
mitted  now-a-days  on  the  King's  highway :  a  man  may  roll  from 
one  end  of  England  to  the  other  in  a  drowsy  coach,  or  jingling 
post-chaise,  without  any  other  adventure  than  that  of  being  occa 
sionally  overturned,  sleeping  in  damp  sheets,  or  having  an  ill- 
cooked  dinner.  We  hear  no  more  of  public  coaches  being  stopped 
and  robbed  by  a  well-mounted  gang  of  resolute  fellows,  with  pis 
tols  in  their  hands,  and  crapes  over  their  faces.  What  a  pretty 
poetical  incident  was  it,  for  example,  in  domestic  life,  for  a  family 
carriage,  on  its  way  to  a  country  seat,  to  be  attacked  about  dark ; 
the  old  gentleman  eased  of  his  purse  and  watch,  the  ladies  of 
their  necklaces  and  earings,  by  a  politely  spoken  highwayman  on 
a  blood  mare,  who  afterwards  leaped  the  hedge  and  galloped 
across  the  country,  to  the  admiration  of  Miss  Caroline,  the  daugh 
ter,  who  would  write  a  long  and  romantic  account  of  the  adven 
ture  to  her  friend,  Miss  Juliana,  in  town.  Ah,  sir !  we  meet  with 
nothing  of  such  incidents  now-a-days." 

"  That,  sir,"  said  my  companion,  taking  advantage  of  a  pause, 


148  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


when  I  stopped  to  recover  breath,  and  to  take  a  glass  of  wine 
which  he  had  just  poured  out,  "  that,  sir,  craving  your  pardon,  is 
not  owing  to  any  want  of  old  English  pluck.  It  is  the  effect 
of  this  cursed  system  of  banking.  People  do  not  travel  with 
bags  of  gold  as  they  did  formerly.  They  have  post  notes,  and 
drafts  on  bankers.  To  rob  a  coach  is  like  catching  a  crow,  where 
you  have  nothing  but  carrion  flesh  and  feathers  for  your  pains. 
But  a  coach  in  old  times,  sir,  was  as  rich  as  a  Spanish  galleon. 
It  turned  out  the  yellow  boys  bravely.  And  a  private  carriage 
was  a  cool  hundred  or  two  at  least." 

I  cannot  express  how  much  I  was  delighted  with  the  sallies 
of  my  new  acquaintance.  He  told  me  that  he  often  frequented 
the  Castle,  and  would  be  glad  to  know  more  of  me  ;  and  I  pro 
mised  myself  many  a  pleasant  afternoon  with  him,  when  I  should 
read  him  my  poem  as  it  proceeded,  and  benefit  by  his  remarks  ; 
for  it  was  evident  he  had  the  true  poetical  feeling. 

"  Come,  sir,"  said  he,  pushing  the  bottle  :  "  Damme,  I  like 
you  !  you're  a  man  after  my  own  heart.  I'm  cursed  slow  in 
making  new  acquaintances.  One  must  be  on  the  reserve,  you 
know.  But  when  I  meet  with  a  man  of  your  kidney,  damme, 
my  heart  jumps  at  once  to  him.  Them's  my  sentiments,  sir. 
Come,  sir,  here's  Jack  Straw's  health !  I  presume  one  can  drink 
it  now-a-days  without  treason  !" 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  I  gayly,  "  and-  Dick  Turpin's  into 
the  bargain  !" 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  the  man  in  green,  "  those  are  the  kind  of  men 
for  poetry.  The  Newgate  Calendar,  sir  !  the  Newgate  Calendar 
is  your  only  reading!  There's  the  place  to  look  for  bold  deeds 
and  dashing  fellows." 

We  were  so  much  pleased  with  each  other  that  we  sat  until  a 


THE   POOR-DEVIL   AUTHOR.  149 


late  hour.  I  insisted  on  paying  the  bill,  for  both  my  purse  and 
my  heart  were  full,  and  I  agreed  that  he  should  pay  the  score  at 
our  next  meeting.  As  the  coaches  had  all  gone  that  run  between 
Hampstead  and  London,  we  had  to  return  on  foot.  He  was  so 
delighted  with  the  idea  of  my  poem,  that  he  could  talk  of  nothing 
else.  He  made  me  repeat  such  passages  as  I  could  remember ; 
and  though  I  did  it  in  a  very  mangled  manner,  having  a  wretched 
memory,  yet  he  was  in  raptures. 

Every  now  and  then  he  would  break  out  with  some  scrap 
which  he  would  misquote  most  terribly,  would  rub  his  hands  and 
exclaim,  "  By  Jupiter,  that's  fine,  that's  noble  !  Damme,  sir,  if  I 
can  conceive  how  you  hit  upon  such  ideas !" 

I  must  confess  I  did  not  always  relish  his  misquotations,  which 
sometimes  made  absolute  nonsense  of  the  passages  ;  but  what  au 
thor  stands  upon  trifles  when  he  is  praised  ? 

Never  had  I  spent  a  more  delightful  evening.  I  did  not  per 
ceive  how  the  time  flew.  I  could  not  bear  to  separate,  but  con 
tinued  walking  on,  arm  in  arm,  with  him,  past  my  lodgings, 
through  Camden  Town,  and  across  Crackskull  Common,  talking 
the  whole  way  about  my  poem. 

When  we  were  half  way  across  the  common,  he  interrupted 
me  in  the  midst  of  a  quotation,  by  telling  me  that  this  had  been 
a  famous  place  for  footpads,  and  was  still  occasionally  infested  by 
them  ;  and  that  a  man  had  recently  been  shot  there  in  attempting 
to  defend  himself. — "  The  more  fool  he  !"  cried  I ;  "  a  man  is  an 
'  idiot  to  risk  life,  or  even  limb,  to  save  a  paltry  purse  of  money. 
It's  quite  a  different  case  from  that  of  a  duel,  where  one's  honor 
is  concerned.  For  my  part,"  added  I,  "  I  should  never  think  of 
making  resistance  against  one  of  those  desperadoes." 

"  Say  you  so  ?"  cried  my  friend  in  green,  turning  suddenly 


150  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


upon  me,  and  putting  a  pistol  to  my  breast ;  "  why,  then,  have  at 
you,  my  lad  ! — come — disburse  !  empty  !  unsack  !" 

In  a  word,  I  found  that  the  muse  had  played  me  another  of 
her  tricks,  and  had  betrayed  me  into  the  hands  of  a  footpad. 
There  was  no  time  to  parley ;  he  made  me  turn  my  pockets 
inside  out ;  and  hearing  the  sound  of  distant  footsteps,  he  made 
one  fell  swoop  upon  purse,  watch,  and  all ;  gave  me  a  thwack 
over  my  unlucky  pate  that  laid  me  sprawling  on  the  ground,  and 
scampered  away  with  his  booty. 

I  saw  no  more  of  my  friend  in  green  until  a  year  or  two  after 
wards  ;  when  I  caught  a  sight  of  his  poetical  countenance  among 
a  crew  of  scapegraces  heavily  ironed,  who  were  on  the  way  for 
transportation.  He  recognized  me  at  once,  tipped  me  an  impu 
dent  wink,  and  asked  me  how  I  came  on  with  the  history  of  Jack 
Straw's  Castle. 

The  catastrophe  at  Crackskull  Common  put  an  end  to  my 
summer's  campaign.  I  was  cured  of  my  poetical  enthusiasm  for 
rebels,  robbers,  and  highwaymen.  I  was  put  out  of  conceit  of 
my  subject,  and,  what  was  worse,  I  was  lightened  of  my  purse, 
in  which  was  almost  every  farthing  I  had  in  the  world.  So  I 
abandoned  Sir  Richard  Steele's  cottage  in  despair,  and  crept  into 
less  celebrated,  though  no  less  poetical  and  airy  lodgings  in  a  gar 
ret  in  town. 

I  now  determined  to  cultivate  the  society  of  the  literary,  and 
to  enroll  myself  in  the  fraternity  of  authorship.  It  is  by  the  con 
stant  collision  of  mind,  thought  I,  that  authors  strike  out  the 
sparks  of  genius,  and  kindle  up  with  glorious  conceptions.  Po 
etry  is  evidently  a  contagious  complaint.  I  will  keep  company 
with  poets ;  who  knows  but  I  may  catch  it  as  others  have 
done? 


THE  POOR-DEVIL   AUTHOR.  151 


I  found  no  difficulty  in  making  a  circle  of  literary  acquaint 
ances,  not  having  the  sin  of  success  lying  at  my  door  :  indeed  the 
failure  of  my  poem  was  a  kind  of  recommendation  to  their  favor. 
It  is  true  my  new  friends  were  not  of  the  most  brilliant  names  in 
literature  ;  but  then  if  you  would  take  their  words  for  it,  they 
were  like  the  prophets  of  old,  men  of  whom  the  world  was  not 
worthy ;  and  who  were  to  live  in  future  ages,  when  the  epheme 
ral  favorites  of  the  day  should  be  forgotten. 

I  soon  discovered,  however,  that  the  more  I  mingled  in  lit 
erary  society,  the  less  I  felt  capable  of  writing ;  that  poetry  was 
not  so  catching  as  I  imagined  ;  and  that  in  familiar  life  there  was 
often  nothing  less  poetical  a  than  poet.  Besides,  I  wanted  the 
esprit  du  corps  to  turn  these  literary  fellowships  to  any  account. 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  enlist  in  any  particular  sect.  I  saw 
something  to  like  in  them  all,  but  found  that  would  never  do,  for 
that  the  tacit  condition  on  which  a  man  enters  into  one  of  these 
sects  is,  that  he  abuses  all  the  rest. 

I  perceived  that  there  were  little  knots  of  authors  who  lived 
with,  and  for,  and  by  one  another.  They  considered  themselves 
the  salt  of  the  earth.  They  fostered  and  kept  up  a  conventional 
vein  of  thinking  and  talking,  and  joking  on  all  subjects ;  and 
they  cried  each  other  up  to  the  skies.  Each  sect  had  its  particu 
lar  creed ;  and  set  up  certain  authors  as  divinities,  and  fell  down 
and  worshipped  them ;  and  considered  every  one  who  did  not 
worship  them,  or  who  worshipped  any  other,  as  a  heretic  and  an 
infidel. 

In  quoting  the  writers  of  the  day,  I  generally  found  them  ex 
tolling  names  of  which  I  had  scarcely  heard,  and  talking  slight 
ingly  of  others  who  were  the  favorites  of  the  public.  If  I  men 
tioned  any  recent  work  from  the  pen  of  a  first-rate  author,  they 


152  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


had  not  read  it ;  they  had  not  time  to  read  all  that  was  spawned 
from  the  press  ;  he  wrote  too  much  to  write  well ; — and  then  they 
would  break  out  into  raptures  about  some  Mr.  Timson,  or  Tom- 
son,  or  Jackson,  whose  works  were  neglected  at  the  present  day, 
but  who  was  to  be  the  wonder  and  delight  of  posterity  !  Alas  ! 
what  heavy  debts  is  this  neglectful  world  daily  accumulating  on 
the  shoulders  of  poor  posterity  ! 

But,  above  all,  it  was  edifying  to  hear  with  what  contempt 
they  would  talk  of  the  great.  Ye  gods  !  how  immeasurably  the 
great  are  despised  by  the  small  fry  of  literature  !  It  is  true,  an 
exception  was  now  and  then  made  of  some  nobleman,  with  whom, 
perhaps,  they  had  casually  shaken  hands  at  an  election,  or  hob  or 
nobbed  at  a  public  dinner,  and  was  pronounced  a  "  devilish  good 
fellow,"  and  "  no  humbug ;"  but,  in  general,  it  was  enough  for  a 
man  to  have  a  title,  to  be  the  object  of  their  sovereign  disdain  : 
you  have  no  idea  how  poetically  and  philosophically  they  would 
talk  of  nobility. 

For  my  part  this  affected  me  but  little  ;  for  though  I  had  no 
bitterness  against  the  great,  and  did  not  think  the  worse  of  a  man 
for  having  innocently  been  born  to  a  title,  yet  I  did  not  feel  my 
self  at  present  called  upon  to  resent  the  indignities  poured  upon 
them  by  the  little.  But  the  hostility  to  the  great  writers  of  the 
day  went  sore  against  the  grain  with  me.  I  could  not  enter  into 
such  feuds,  nor  participate  in  such  animosities.  I  had  not  become 
author  sufficiently  to  hate  other  authors.  I  could  still  find  plea 
sure  in  the  novelties  of  the  press,  and  could  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  praise  a  contemporary,  even  though  he  were  successful.  Indeed 
I  was  miscellaneous  in  my  taste,  and  could  not  confine  it  to  any 
age  or  growth  of  writers.  I  could  turn  with  delight  from  the 
glowing  pages  of  Byron  to  the  cool  and  polished  raillery  of  Pope  ; 


THE   POOR-DEVIL  AUTHOR.  153 

and  after  wandering  among  the  sacred  groves  of  Paradise  Lost, 
I  could  give  myself  up  to  voluptuous  abandonment  in  the  en 
chanted  bowers  of  Lalla  Rookh. 

•jriir  "I  would  have  my  authors,"  said  I,  "as  various  as  my  wines, 
and,  in  relishing  the  strong  and  the  racy,  would  never  decry  the 
sparkling  and  exhilarating.  Port  and  sherry  are  excellent  stand 
by's,  and  so  is  Madeira  ;  but  claret  and  Burgundy  may  be  drunk 
now  and  then  without  disparagement,  to  one's  palate,  and  Cham 
pagne  is  a  beverage  by  no  means  to  be  despised." 

Such  was  the  tirade  I  uttered  one  day  when  a  little  flushed 
with  ale  at  a  literary  club.  I  uttered  it,  too,  with  something  of  a 
flourish,  for  I  thought  my  simile  a  clever  one.  Unluckily,  my 
auditors  were  men  who  drank  beer  and  hated  Pope  ;  so  my  figure 
about  wines  went  for  nothing,  and  my  critical  toleration  was 
looked  upon  as  downright  heterodoxy.  In  a  word,  I  soon  became 
like  a  freethinker  in  religion,  an  outlaw  from  every  sect,  and  fair 
game  for  all.  Such  are  the  melancholy  consequences  of  not  ha 
ting  in  literature. 

I  see  you  are  growing  weary,  so  I  will  be  brief  with  the  resi 
due  of  my  literary  career.  I  will  not  detain  you  with  a  detail  of 
my  various  attempts  to  get  astride  of  Pegasus ;  of  the  poems  I 
have  written  which  were  never  printed,  the  plays  I  have  pre 
sented  which  were  never  performed,  and  the  tracts  I  have  pub 
lished  which  were  never  purchased.  It  seemed  as  if  booksellers, 
managers,  and  the  very  public,  had  entered  into  a  conspiracy  to 
starve  me.  Still  I  could  not  prevail  upon  myself  to  give  up  the 
trial,  nor  abandon  those  dreams  of  renown  in  which  I  had  in 
dulged.  How  should  I  be  able  to  look  the  literary  circle  of  my 
native  village  in  the  face,  if  I  were  so  completely  to  falsify  their 
predictions  ?  For  some  time  longer,  therefore,  I  continued  to 

7* 


154  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


write  for  fame,  and  was,  of  course,  the  most  miserable  dog  in  ex 
istence,  besides  being  in  continual  risk  of  starvation.  I  accumu 
lated  loads  of  literary  treasure  on  my  shelves — loads  which 
were  to  be  treasures  to  posterity ;  but,  alas  !  they  put  not  a  penny 
into  my  purse.  What  was  all  this  wealth  to  my  present  necessi 
ties  ?  I  could  not  patch  my  elbows  with  an  ode  ;  nor  satisfy  my 
hunger  with  blank  verse.  "  Shall  a  man  fill  his  belly  with  the 
east  wind  ?"  says  the  proverb.  He  may  as  well  do  so  as  with 
poetry. 

I  have  many  a  time  strolled  sorrowfully  along,  with  a  sad 
heart  and  an  empty  stomach,  about  five  o'clock,  and  looked  wist 
fully  down  the  areas  in  the  west  end  of  the  town,  and  seen 
through  the  kitchen  windows  the  fires  gleaming,  and  the  joints 
of  meat  turning  on  the  spits  and  dripping  with  gravy,  and  the 
cook-maids  beating  up  puddings,  or  trussing  turkeys,  and  felt  for 
the  moment  that  if  I  could  but  have  the  run  of  one  of  those 
kitchens,  Apollo  and  the  Muses  might  have  the  hungry  heights 
of  Parnassus  for  me.  Oh,  sir !  talk  of  meditations  among  the 
tombs — they  are  nothing  so  melancholy  as  the  meditations  of  a 
poor  devil  without  penny  in  pouch,  along  a  line  of  kitchen-win 
dows  towards  dinner-time. 

At  length,  when  almost  reduced  to  famine  and  despair,  the 
idea  all  at  once  entered  my  head,  that  perhaps  I  was  not  so  clever 
a  fellow  as  the  village  and  myself  had  supposed.  It  was  the 
salvation  of  me.  The  moment  the  idea  popped  into  my  brain  it 
brought  conviction  and  comfort  with  it.  I  awoke  as  from  a  dream 
— I  gave  up  immortal  fame  to  those  who  could  live  on  air ;  took 
to  writing  for  mere  bread ;  and  have  ever  since  had  a  very  tole 
rable  life  of  it.  There  is  no  man  of  letters  so  much  at  his  ease, 
sir,  as  he  who  has  no  character  to  gain  or  lose.  I  had  to  train 


THE   POOR-DEVIL   AUTHOR.  155 


myself  to  it  a  little,  and  to  clip  my  wings  short  at  first,  or  they 
would  have  carried  me  up  into  poetry  in  spite  of  myself.  So  I 
determined  to  begin  by  the  opposite  extreme,  and  abandoning 
the  higher  regions  of  the  craft,  I  came  plump  down  to  the  lowest, 
and  turned  creeper. 

"  Creeper !  and  pray  what  is  that  ?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  see  you  are  ignorant  of  the  language  of  the  craft ; 
a  creeper  is  one  who  furnishes  the  newspapers  with  paragraphs 
at  so  much  a  line ;  and  who  goes  about  in  quest  of  misfortunes ; 
attends  the  Bow-street  Office ;  the  Courts  of  Justice,  and  every 
other  den  of  mischief  and  iniquity.  We  are  paid  at  the  rate 
of  a  penny  a  line,  and  as  we  can  sell  the  same  paragraph  to 
almost  every  paper,  we  sometimes  pick  up  a  very  decent  day's 
work.  Now  and  then  the  Muse  is  unkind,  or  the  day  uncom 
monly  quiet,  and  then  we  rather  starve ;  and  sometimes  the  un 
conscionable  editors  will  clip  our  paragraphs  when  they  are  a  little 
too  rhetorical,  and  snip  off  two-pence  or  three-pence  at  a  go.  I 
have  many  a  time  had  my  pot  of  porter  snipped  off  of  my  dinner 
in  this  way,  and  have  had  to  dine  with  dry  lips.  However,  I 
cannot  complain.  I  rose  gradually  in  the  lower  ranks  of  the 
craft,  and  am  now,  I  think,  in  the  most  comfortable  region  of 
literature." 

"  And  pray,"  said  I,  "  what  may  you  be  at  present  ?" 

"  At  present,"  said  he,  "  I  am  a  regular  job- writer,  and  turn 
my  hand  to  any  thing.  I  work  up  the  writings  of  others  at  so 
much  a  sheet ;  turn  off  translations ;  write  second-rate  articles  to 
fill  up  reviews  and  magazines  ;  compile  travels  and  voyages,  and 
furnish  theatrical  criticisms  for  the  newspapers.  All  this  author 
ship,  you  perceive,  is  anonymous ;  it  gives  me  no  reputation 
except  among  the  trade ;  where  I  am  considered  an  author  of  all 


156  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


work,  and  am  always  sure  of  employ.  That's  the  only  reputa 
tion  I  want.  I  sleep  soundly,  without  dread  of  duns  or  critics, 
and  leave  immortal  fame  to  those  that  choose  to  fret  and  fight 
about  it.  Take  my  word  for  it,  the  only  happy  author  in  this 
world  is  he  who  is  below  the  care  of  reputation." 


NOTORIETY. 

WHEN  we  had  emerged  from  the  literary  nest  of  honest  Dribble, 
and  had  passed  safely  through  the  dangers  of  Break-neck-stairs, 
and  the  labyrinths  of  Fleet-market,  Buckthorne  indulged  in 
many  comments  upon  the  peep  into  literary  life  which  he  had 
furnished  me. 

I  expressed  my  surprise  at  finding  it  so  different  a  world  from 
what  I  had  imagined.  "  It  is  always  so,"  said  he,  "  with 
strangers.  The  land  of  literature  is  a  fairy  land  to  those  who 
view  it  from  a  distance,  but,  like  all  other  landscapes,  the  charm 
fades  on  a  nearer  approach,  and  the  thorns  and  briers  become 
visible.  The  republic  of  letters  is  the  most  factious  and  discord 
ant  of  all  republics,  ancient  or  modern." 

"  Yet,"  said  I,  smiling,  "  you  would  not  have  me  take  honest 
Dribble's  experience  as  a  view  of  the  land.  He  is  but  a  mous 
ing  owl ;  a  mere  groundling.  We  should  have  quite  a  different 
strain  from  one  of  those  fortunate  authors  whom  we  see  sporting 
about  the  empyreal  heights  of  fashion,  like  swallows  in  the  blue 
sky  of  a  summer's  day." 

"  Perhaps  we  might,"  replied  he,  "  but  I  doubt  it.  I  doubt 
whether  if  any  one,  even  of  the  most  successful,  were  to  tell  his 
actual  feelings,  you  would  not  find  the  truth  of  friend  Dribble's 
philosophy  with  respect  to  reputation.  One  you  would  find  car 
rying  a  gay  face  to  the  world,  while  some  vulture  critic  was 


158  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


preying  upon  his  very  liver.  Another,  who  was  simple  enough 
to  mistake  fashion  for  fame,  you  would  find  watching  counte 
nances,  and  cultivating  invitations,  more  ambitious  to  figure  in  the 
beau  monde  than  the  world  of  letters,  and  apt  to  be  rendered 
wretched  by  the  neglect  of  an  illiterate  peer,  or  a  dissipated 
duchess.  Those  who  were  rising  to  fame,  you  would  find  torment 
ed  with  anxiety  to  get  higher ;  and  those  who  had  gained  the 
summit,  in  constant  apprehension  of  a  decline. 

"  Even  those  who  are  indifferent  to  the  buzz  of  notoriety,  and 
the  farce  of  fashion,  are  not  much  better  off,  being  incessantly 
harassed  by  intrusions  on  their  leisure,  and  interruptions  of  their 
pursuits ;  for,  whatever  may  be  his  feelings,  when  once  an  author 
is  launched  into  notoriety,  he  must  go  the  rounds  until  the  idle 
curiosity  of  the  day  is  satisfied,  and  he  is  thrown  aside  to  make 
way  for  some  new  caprice.  Upon  the  whole,  I  do  not  know  but 
he  is  most  fortunate  who  engages  in  the  whirl  through  ambition, 
however  tormenting  ;  as  it  is  doubly  irksome  to  be  obliged  to  join 
in  the  game  without  being  interested  in  the  stake. 

"  There  is  a  constant  demand  in  the  fashionable  world  for 
novelty ;  every  nine  days  must  have  its  wonder,  no  matter  of 
what  kind.  At  one  time  it  is  an  author  ;  at  another  a  fire-eater ; 
at  another  a  composer,  an  Indian  juggler,  or  an  Indian  chief;  a 
man  from  the  North  Pole  or  the  Pyramids ;  each  figures  through 
his  brief  term  of  notoriety,  and  then  makes  way  for  the  succeed 
ing  wonder.  You  must  know  that  we  have  oddity  fanciers  among 
our  ladies  of  rank,  who  collect  about  them  all  kinds  of  remarka 
ble  beings  ;  fiddlers,  statesmen,  singers,  warriors,  artists,  philoso 
phers,  actors,  and  poets  ;  every  kind  of  personage,  in  short,  who 
is  noted  for  something  peculiar ;  so  that  their  routs  are  like  fancy 
balls,  where  every  one  comes  '  in  character.' 


NOTORIETY.  159 


"I  ha\ie  had  infinite  amusement  at  these  parties  in  noticing 
how  industriously  every  one  was  playing  a  part,  and  acting 
out  of  his  natural  line.  There  is  not  a  more  complete  game  at 
cross  purposes  than  the  intercourse  of  the  literary  and  the  great. 
The  fine  gentleman  is  always  anxious  to  be  thought  a  wit,  and  the 
wit  a  fine  gentleman. 

"I  have  noticed  a  lord  endeavoring  to  look  wise  and  talk 
learnedly  with  a  man  of  letters,  who  was  aiming  at  a  fashionable 
air,  and  the  tone  of  a  man  who  had  lived  about  town.  The  peer 
quoted  a  score  or  two  of  learned  authors,  with  whom  he  would 
fain  be  thought  intimate,  while  the  author  talked  of  Sir  John 
this,  and  Sir  Harry  that,  and  extolled  the  Burgundy  he  had  drunk 
at  Lord  Such-a-one's.  Each  seemed  to  forget  that  he  could  only 
be  interesting  to  the  other  in  his  proper  character.  Had  the 
peer  been  merely  a  man  of  erudition,  the  author  would  never 
have  listened  to  his  prosing ;  and  had  the  author  known  all  the 
nobility  in  the  Court  Calendar,  it  would  have  given  him  no  in 
terest  in  the  eyes  of  the  peer. 

"  In  the  same  way  I  have  seen  a  fine  lady,  remarkable  for 
beauty,  weary  a  philosopher  with  flimsy  metaphysics,  while  the 
philosopher  put  on  an  awkward  air  of  gallantry,  played  with  her 
fan,  and  prattled  about  the  Opera.  I  have  heard  a  sentimental 
poet  talk  very  stupidly  with  a  statesman  about  the  national  debt : 
and  on  joining  a  knot  of  scientific  old  gentlemen  conversing  in  a 
corner,  expecting  to  hear  the  discussion  of  some  valuable  dis 
covery,  I  found  they  were  only  amusing  themselves  with  a  fat 
story." 


A  PRACTICAL  PHILOSOPHER. 

THE  anecdotes  I  had  heard  of  Buckthorne's  early  schoolmate,  to 
gether  with  a  variety  of  peculiarities  which  I  had  remarked  in 
himself,  gave  me  a  strong  curiosity  to  know  something  of  his  own 
history.  I  am  a  traveller  of  the  good  old  school,  and  am  fond  of 
the  custom  laid  down  in  books,  according  to  which,  whenever 
travellers  met,  they  sat  down  forthwith,  and  gave  a  history  of 
themselves  and  their,  adventures.  This  Buckthorne,  too,  was  a 
man  much  to  my  taste ;  he  had  seen  the  world,  and  mingled  with 
society,  yet  retained  the  strong  eccentricities  of  a  man  who  had 
lived  much  alone.  There  was  a  careless  dash  of  good-humor 
about  him  which  pleased  me  exceedingly ;  and  at  times  an  odd 
tinge  of  melancholy  mingled  with  his  humor,  and  gave  it  an  addi 
tional  zest.  He  was  apt  to  run  into  long  speculations  upon 
society  and  manners,  and  to  indulge  in  whimsical  views  of  human 
nature  ;  yet  there  was  nothing  ill-tempered  in  his  satire.  It  ran 
more  upon  the  follies  than  the  vices  of  mankind ;  and  even  the 
follies  of  his  fellow-man  were  treated  with  the  leniency  of  one 
who  felt  himself  to  be  but  frail.  He  had  evidently  been  a  little 
chilled  and  buffeted  by  fortune,  without  being  soured  thereby :  as 
some  fruits  become  mellower  and  more  generous  in  their  flavor 
from  having  been  bruised  and  frost-bitten. 

I  have  always  had  a  great  relish  for  the  conversation  of  prac 
tical  philosophers  of  this  stamp,  who  have  profited  by  the  "  sweet 


A  PRACTICAL   PHILOSOPHER.  161 


uses  "  of  adversity  without  imbibing  its  bitterness ;  who  have 
learnt  to  estimate  the  world  rightly,  yet  good-humoredly ;  and 
who,  while  they  perceive  the  truth  of  the  saying,  that  "  all  is 
vanity,"  are  yet  able  to  do  so  without  vexation  of  spirit. 

Such  a  man  was  Buckthorne.     In  general  a  laughing  philoso 
pher  ;  and  if  at   any  time   a   shade  of  sadness  stole  across  his 
brow,  it  was  but  transient ;  like  a  summer  cloud,  which  soon  goes  / 
by,  and  freshens  and  revives  the  fields  over  which  it  passes. 

I  was  walking  with  him  one  day  in  Kensington  Gardens — for 
he  was  a  knowing  epicure  in  all  the  cheap  pleasures  and  rural 
haunts  within  reach  of  the  metropolis.  It  was  a  delightful 
warm  morning  in  spring ;  and  he  was  in  the  happy  mood  of  a 
pastoral  citizen,  when  just  turned  loose  into  grass  and  sunshine. 
He  had  been  watching  a  lark  which,  rising  from  a  bed  of  daisies 
and  yellow-cups,  had  sung  his  way  up  to  a  bright  snowy  cloud 
floating  in  the  deep  blue  sky. 

"  Of  all  birds,"  said  he,  "  I  should  like  to  be  a  lars.  He 
revels  in  the  brightest  time  of  the  day,  in  the  happiest  season  of 
the  year,  among  fresh  meadows  and  opening  flowers  ;  and  when 
he  has  sated  himself  with  the  sweetness  of  earth,  he  wings  his 
flight  up  to  heaven  as  if  he  would  drink  in  the  melody  of  the 
morning  stars.  Hark  to  that  note  !  How  it  comes  trilling  down 
upon  the  ear !  What  a  stream  of  music,  note  falling  over  note 
in  delicious  cadence  !  Who  would  trouble  his  head  about  operas 
and  concerts  when  he  could  walk  in  the  fields  and  hear  such 
music  for  nothing?  These  are  the  enjoyments  which  set  riches 
at  scorn,  and  make  even  a  poor  man  independent : 

'  I  care  not,  Fortune,  what  you  do  deny  : 

You  cannot  rob  me  of  free  nature's  grace  ; 
You  cannot  shut  the  windows  of  the  sky, 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


Through  which  Aurora  shows  her  bright'ning  face  ; 
You  cannot  bar  my  constant  feet  to  trace 
The  woods  and  lawns  by  living  streams  at  eve ' 

"  Sir,  there  are  homilies  in  nature's  works  worth  all  the  wis 
dom  of  the  schools,  if  we  could  but  read  them  rightly,  and  one 
of  the  pleasantest  lessons  I  ever  received  in  time  of  trouble,  was 
from  hearing  the  notes  of  a  lark." 

I  profited  by  this  communicative  vein  to  intimate  to  Buckthorne 
a  wish  to  know  something  of  the  events  of  his  life,  which  I  fan 
cied  must  have  been  an  eventful  one. 

He  smiled  when  I  expressed  my  desire.  "  I  have  no  great 
story,"  said  he,  "  to  relate.  A  mere  tissue  of  errors  and  follies. 
But,  such  as  it  is,  you  shall  have  one  epoch  of  it,  by  which  you 
may  judge  of  the  rest."  And  so,  without  any  further  prelude,  he 
gave  me  the  following  anecdotes  of  his  early  adventures. 


BUCKTHORNE : 

OR, 

THE  YOUNG  MAN  OF  GREAT  EXPECTATIONS. 

I  WAS  born  to  very  little  property,  but  to  great  expectations — 
which  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most  unlucky  fortunes  a  man  can 
be  born  to.  My  father  was  a  country  gentleman,  the  last  of  a 
very  ancient  and  honorable,  but  decayed  family,  and  resided  in  an 
old  hunting-lodge  in  Warwickshire.  He  was  a  keen  sportsman, 
and  lived  to  the  extent  of  his  moderate  income,  so  that  I  had  lit 
tle  to  expect  from  that  quarter ;  but  then  I  had  a  rich  uncle  by 
the  mother's  side,  a  penurious,  accumulating  curmudgeon,  who  it 
was  confidently  expected  would  make  me  his  heir,  because  he 
was  an  old  bachelor,  because  I  was  named  after  him,  and  because 
he  hated  all  the  world  except  myself. 

He  was,  in  fact,  an  inveterate  hater,  a  miser  even  in  misan 
thropy,  and  hoarded  up  a  grudge  as  he  did  a  guinea.  Thus, 
though  my  mother  was  an  only  sister,  he  had  never  forgiven  her 
marriage  with  my  father,  against  whom  he  had  a  cold,  still,  im 
movable  pique,  which  had  lain  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  like  a 
stone  in  a  well,  ever  since  they  had  been  schoolboys  together. 
My  mother,  however,  considered  me  as  the  intermediate  being 
that  was  to  bring  every  thing  again  into  harmony,  for  she  looked 
upon  me  as  a  prodigy — God  bless  her !  my  heart  overflows  when 
ever  I  recall  her  tenderness.  She  was  the  most  excellent,  the 


164  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


most  indulgent  of  mothers.  I  was  her  only  child :  it  was  a  pity 
she  had  no  more,  for  she  had  fondness  of  heart  enough  to  have 
spelled  a  dozen ! 

I  was  sent  at  an  early  age  to  a  public  school,  sorely  against 
my  mother's  wishes ;  but  my  father  insisted  that  it  was  the  only 
way  to  make  boys  hardy.  The  school  was  kept  by  a  conscien 
tious  prig  of  the  ancient  system,  who  did  his  duty  by  the  boys 
intrusted  to  his  care :  that  is  to  say,  we  were  flogged  soundly 
when  we  did  not  get  our  lessons.  We  were  put  in  classes,  and 
thus  flogged  on  in  droves  along  the  highways  of  knowledge,  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  cattle  are  driven  to  market ;  where 
those  that  are  heavy  in  gait,  or  short  in  leg,  have  to  suffer  for  the 
superior  alertness  or  longer  limbs  of  their  companions. 

For  my  part,  I  confess  it  with  shame,  I  was  an  incorrigible 
laggard.  I  have  always  had  the  poetical  feeling,  that  is  to  say,  I 
have  always  been  an  idle  fellow,  and  prone  to  play  the  vagabond. 
I  used  to  get  away  from  my  books  and  school  whenever  I  could, 
and  ramble  about  the  fields.  I  was  surrounded  by  seductions  for 
such  a  temperament.  The  schoolhouse  was  an  old-fashioned 
whitewashed  mansion,  of  wood  and  plaster,  standing  on  the  skirts 
of  a  beautiful  village  :  close  by  it  was  the  venerable  church,  with 
a  tall  Gothic  spire  ;  before  it  spread  a  lovely  green  valley,  with 
a  little  stream  glistening  along  through  willow  groves ;  while  a 
line  of  blue  hills  bounding  the  landscape  gave  rise  to  many  a 
summer-day-dream  as  to  the  fairy  land  that  lay  beyond. 

In  spite  of  all  the  scourgings  I  suffered  at  that  school  to  make 
me  love  my  book,  I  cannot  but  look  back  upon  the  place  with 
fondness.  Indeed,  I  considered  this  frequent  flagellation  as  the 
common  lot  of  humanity,  and  the  regular  mode  in  which  scholars 
were  made. 


BUCKTHORNE.  165 


My  kind  mother  used  to  lament  over  my  details  of  the  sore 
trials  I  underwent  in  the  cause  of  learning ;  but  my  father  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  her  expostulations.  He  had  been  flogged  through 
school  himself,  and  swore  there  was  no  other  way  of  making  a 
man  of  parts ;  though,  let  me  speak  it  with  all  due  reverence,  my 
father  was  but  an  indifferent  illustration  of  his  theory,  for  he  was 
considered  a  grievous  blockhead. 

My  poetical  temperament  evinced  itself  at  a  very  early  period. 
The  village  church  was  attended  every  Sunday  by  a  neighboring 
squire,  the  lord  of  the  manor,  whose  park  stretched  quite  to  the 
village,  and  whose  spacious  country-seat  seemed  to  take  the 
church  under  its  protection.  Indeed,  you  would  have  thought 
the  church  had  been  consecrated  to  him  instead  of  to  the  Deity. 
The  parish  clerk  bowed  low  before  him,  and  the  vergers  humbled 
themselves  unto  the  dust  in  his  presence.  He  always  entered  a 
little  late,  and  with  some  stir ;  striking  his  cane  emphatically  on 
the  ground,  swaying  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  looking  loftily  to  the 
right  and  left  as  he  walked  slowly  up  the  aisle ;  and  the  parson, 
who  always  ate  his  Sunday  dinner  with  him,  never  commenced 
service  until  he  appeared.  He  sat  with  his  family  in  a  large 
pew,  gorgeously  lined,  humbling  himself  devoutly  on  velvet  cush 
ions,  and  reading  lessons  of  meekness  and  lowliness  of  spirit  out  of 
splendid  gold  and  morocco  prayer-books.  Whenever  the  parson 
spoke  of  the  difficulty  of  a  rich  man's  entering  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  the  eyes  of  the  congregation  would  turn  towards  the 
"  grand  pew,"  and  I  thought  the  squire  seemed  pleased  with  the 
application. 

The  pomp  of  this  pew,  and  the  aristocratical  air  of  the  family, 
struck  my  imagination  wonderfully;  and  I  fell  desperately  in 
love  with  a  little  daughter  of  the  squire's,  about  twelve  years  of 


166  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


age.  This  freak  of  fancy  made  me  more  truant  from  my  studies 
than  ever.  I  used  to  stroll  about  the  squire's  park,  and  lurk  near 
the  house,  to  catch  glimpses  of  this  little  damsel  at  the  windows, 
or  playing  about  the  lawn,  or  walking  out  with  her  governess. 

I  had  not  enterprise  nor  impudence  enough  to  venture  from 
my  concealment.  Indeed  I  felt  like  an  arrant  poacher,  until  I 
read  one  or  two  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  when  I  pictured  my 
self  as  some  sylvan  deity,  and  she  a  coy  wood-nymph  of  whom  I 
was  in  pursuit.  There  is  something  extremely  delicious  in  these 
early  awakenings  of  the  tender  passion.  I  can  feel  even  at  this 
moment  the  throbbing  of  my  boyish  bosom,  whenever  by  chance 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  white  frock  fluttering  among  the  shrub 
bery.  I  carried  about  in  my  bosom  a  volume  .of  Waller,  which  I 
had  purloined  from  my  mother's  library ;  and  I  applied  to  my 
little  fair  one  all  the  compliments  lavished  upon  Sacharissa. 

At  length  I  danced  with  her  at  a  school-ball.  I  was  so  awk 
ward  a  booby,  that  I  dared  scarcely  speak  to  her ;  I  was  filled 
with  awe  and  embarrassment  in  her  presence ;  but  I  was  so 
inspired,  that  my  poetical  temperament  for  the  first  time  broke 
out  in  verse,. and  I  fabricated  some  glowing  rhymes,  in  which  I 
be-rhymed  the  little  lady  under  the  favorite  name  of  Sacharissa. 
I  slipped  the  verses,  trembling  and  blushing,  into  her  hand  the 
next  Sunday  as  she  came  out  of  church.  The  little  prude  handed 
them  to  her  mamma ;  the  mamma  handed  them  to  the  squire ; 
the  squire,  who  had  no  soul  for  poetry,  sent  them  in  dudgeon  to 
the  schoolmaster ;  and  the  schoolmaster,  with  a  barbarity  worthy 
of  the  dark  ages,  gave  me  a  sound  and  peculiarly  humiliating 
flogging  for  thus  trespassing  upon  Parnassus.  This  was  a  sad 
outset  for  a  votary  of  the  muse  ;  it  ought  to  have  cured  me  of  my 
passion  for  poetry ;  but  it  only  confirmed  it,  for  I  felt  the  spirit 


BUCKTHORNE.  167 


of  a  martyr  rising  within  me.  What  was  as  well,  perhaps,  it 
cured  me  of  my  passion  for  the  young  lady ;  for  I  felt  so  indig 
nant  at  the  ignominious  horsing  I  had  incurred  in  celebrating  her 
charms,  that  I  could  not  hold  up  my  head  in  church.  Fortunately 
for  my  wounded  sensibility,  the  Midsummer  holidays  came  on, 
and  I  returned  home.  My  mother,  as  usual,  inquired  into  all  my 
school  concerns,  my  little  pleasures,  and  cares,  and  sorrows ;  for 
boyhood  has  its  share  of  the  one  as  well  as  of  the  other.  I  told 
her  all,  and  she  was  indignant  at  the  treatment  I  had  experienced. 
She  fired  up  at  the  arrogance  of  the  squire,  and  the  prudery 
of  the  daughter ;  and  as  to  the  schoolmaster,  she  wondered  where 
was  the  use  of  having  schoolmasters,  and  why  boys  could  not 
remain  at  home,  and  be  educated  by  tutors,  under  the  eye  of 
'  their  -mothers.  She  asked  to  see  the  verses  I  had  written,  and 
she  was  delighted  with  them ;  for,  to  confess  the  truth,  she  had  a 
pretty  taste  in  poetry.  She  even  showed  them  to  the  parson's 
wife,  who  protested  they  were  charming ;  and  the  parson's  three 
daughters  insisted  on  each  having  a  copy  of  them. 

All  this  was  exceedingly  balsamic,  and  I  was  still  more 
consoled  and  encouraged,  when  the  young  ladies,  who  were  the 
blue-stockings  of  the  neighborhood,  and  had  read  Dr.  Johnson's 
Lives  quite  through,  assured  my  mother  that  great  geniuses  never 
studied,  but  were  always  idle ;  upon  which  I  began  to  surmise 
that  I  was  myself  something  out  of  the  common  run.  My  father, 
however,  was  of  a  very  different  opinion ;  for  when  my  mother, 
in  the  pride  of  her  heart,  showed  him  my  copy  of  verses,  he 
threw  them  out  of  the  window,  asking  her  "  if  she  meant  to  make 
a  ballad-monger  of  the  boy  ?"  But  he  was  a  careless,  common 
thinking  man,  and  I  cannot  say  that  I  ever  loved  him  much;  my 
mother  absorbed  all  my  filial  affection. 


168  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


I  used  occasionally,  on  holidays,  to  be  sent  on  short  visits  to 
the  uncle  who  was  to  make  me  his  heir ;  they  thought  it  would 
keep  me  in  his  mind,  and  render  him  fond  of  me.  He  was  a 
withered,  anxious-looking  old  fellow,  and  lived  in  a  desolate  old 
country-seat,  which  he  suffered  to  go  to  ruin  from  absolute  nig 
gardliness,  lie  kept  but  one  man-servant,  who  had  lived,  or 
rather  starved,  with  him  for  years.  No  woman  was  allowed  to 
sleep  in  the  house.  A  daughter  of  the  old  servant  lived  by  the 
gate,  in  what  had  been  a  porter's  lodge,  and  was  permitted  to 
come  into  the  house  about  an  hour  each  day,  to  make  the  beds, 
and  cook  a  morsel  of  provisions.  The  park  that  surrounded  the 
house  was  all  run  wild :  the  trees  were  grown  out  of  shape ;  the 
fish-ponds  stagnant ;  the  urns  and  statues  fallen  from  their  pedes- 

• 

tals,  and  buried  among  the  rank  grass.  The  hares  and  pheasants 
were  so  little  molested,  except  by  poachers,  that  they  bred  in 
great  abundance,  and  sported  about  the  rough  lawns  and  weedy 
avenues.  To  guard  the  premises,  and  frighten  off  robbers,  of 
whom  he  was  somewhat  apprehensive,  and  visitors,  of  whom  he 
was  in  almost  equal  awe,  my  uncle  kept  two  or  three  bloodhounds, 
who  were  always  prowling  round  the  house,  and  were  the  dread 
of  the  neighboring  peasantry.  They  were  gaunt  and  half  starved, 
seemed  ready  to  devour  one  from  mere  hunger,  and  were  an 
effectual  check  on  any  stranger's  approach  to  this  wizard  castle. 
Such  was  my  uncle's  house,  which  I  used  to  visit  now  and 
then  during  the  holidays.  I  was,  as  I  before  said,  the  old  man's 
favorite ;  that  is  to  say,  he  did  not  hate  me  so  much  as  he  did  the 
rest  of  the  world.  I  had  been  apprized  of  his  character,  and 
cautioned  to  cultivate  his  good  will ;  but  I  was  too  young  and 
careless  to  be  a  courtier,  and,  indeed,  have  never  been  sufficiently 
studious  of  my  interests  to  let  them  govern  my  feelings.  How- 


BUCKTHORNE.  169 


ever,  we  jogged  on  very  well  together,  and  as  my  visits  cost  him 
almost  nothing,  they  did  not  seem  to  be  very  unwelcome.  I 
brought  with  me  my  fishing-rod,  and  half  supplied  the  table  from 
the  fish-ponds. 

Our  meals  were  solitary  and  unsocial.  My  uncle  rarely  spoke  ; 
he  pointed  to  whatever  he  wanted,  and  the  servant  perfectly  un 
derstood  him.  Indeed,  his  man  John,  or  Iron  John,  as  he  was 
called  in  the  neighborhood,  was  a  counterpart  of  his  master.  He 
was  a  tall,  bony  old  fellow,  with  a  dry  wig,  that  seemed  made 
of  cow's  tail,  and  a  face  as  tough  as  though  it  had  been  made  of 
cow's  hide.  He  was  generally  clad  in  a  long,  patched  livery 
coat,  taken  out  of  the  wardrobe  of  the  house,  and  which  bagged 
loosely  about  him,  having  evidently  belonged  to  some  corpulent 
predecessor,  in  the  more  plenteous  days  of  the  mansion.  From 
long  habits  of  taciturnity  the  hinges  of  his  jaws  seemed  to  have 
grown  absolutely  rusty,  and  it  cost  him  as  much  effort  to  set  them 
ajar,  and  to  let  out  a  tolerable  sentence,  as  it  would  have  done  to 
set  open  the  iron  gates  of  the  park,  and  let  out  the  old  family 
carriage,  that  was  dropping  to  pieces  in  the  coach-house. 

I  cannot  say,  however,  but  that  I  was  for  some  time  amused 
with  my  uncle's  peculiarities.  Even  the  very  desolateness  of  the 
establishment  had  something  in  it  that  hit  my  fancy.  When  the 
weather  was  fine,  I  used  to  amuse  myself  in  a  solitary  way,  by 
rambling  about  the  park,  and  coursing  like  a  colt  across  its  lawns. 
The  hares  and  pheasants  seemed  to  stare  with  surprise  to  see  a 
human  being  walking  these  forbidden  grounds  by  daylight. 
Sometimes  I  amused  myself  by  jerking  stones,  or  shooting  at 
birds  with  a  bow  and  arrows,  for  to  have  used  a  gun  would  have 
been  treason.  Now  and  then  my  path  was  crossed  by  a  little 
red-headed,  ragged-tailed  urchin,  the  son  of  the  woman  at  the  lodge, 


170  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


who  ran  wild  about  the  premises.  I  tried  to  draw  him  into  fa 
miliarity,  and  to  make  a  companion  of  him,  but  he  seemed  to  have 
imbibed  the  strange  unsociable  character  of  every  thing  around 
him,  and  always  kept  aloof;  so  I  considered  him  as  another 
Orson,  and  amused  myself  with  shooting  at  him  with  my  bow 
and  arrows,  and  he  would  hold  up  his  breeches  with  one  hand,  and 
scamper  away  like  a  deer. 

There  was  something  in  all  this  loneliness  and  wildness 
strangely  pleasing  to  me.  The  great  stables,  empty  and  weather- 
broken,  with  the  names  of  favorite  horses  over  the  vacant  stalls  ; 
the  windows  bricked  and  boarded  up  ;  the  broken  roofs,  garrison 
ed  by  rooks  and  jackdaws,  all  had  a  singularly  forlorn  appearance. 
One  would  have  concluded  the  house  to  be  totally  uninhabited, 
were  it  not  for  a  little  thread  of  blue  smoke,  which  now  and 
then  curled  up  like  a  corkscrew,  from  the  centre  of  one  of 
the  wide  chimneys,  where  my  uncle's  starveling  meal  was 
cooking. 

My  uncle's  room  was  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  building, 
strongly  secured,  and  generally  locked.  I  was  never  admitted 
into  this  strong-hold,  where  the  old  man  would  remain  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  time,  drawn  up,  like  a  veteran  spider,  in  the 
citadel  of  his  web.  The  rest  of  the  mansion,  however,  was  open 
to  me,  and  I  wandered  about  it  unconstrained.  The  damp  and 
rain  which  beat  in  through  the  broken  windows,  crumbled  the 
paper  from  the  walls,  mouldered  the  pictures,  and  gradually  de 
stroyed  the  furniture.  I  loved  to  roam  about  the  wide  waste 
chambers  in  bad  weather,  and  listen  to  the  howling  of  the  wind, 
and  the  banging  about  of  the  doors  and  window-shutters.  I 
pleased  myself  with  the  idea  how  completely,  when  I  came  to 
the  estate,  I  would  renovate  all  things,  and  make  the  old 


BUCKTHORNE.  171 


building  ring  with  merriment,  till  it  was  astonished  at  its  own 
jocundity. 

The  chamber  which  I  occupied  on  these  visits,  had  been  my 
mother's  when  a  girl.  There  was  still  the  toilet-table  of  her  own 
adorning,  the  landscapes  of  her  own  drawing.  She  had  never 
seen  it  since  her  marriage,  but  would  often  ask  me,  if  every  thing 
was  still  the  same.  All  was  just  the  same,  for  I  loved  that  cham 
ber  on  her  account,  and  had  taken  pains  to  put  every  thing  in 
order,  and  to  mend  all  the  flaws  in  the  windows  with  my  own 
hands.  I  anticipated  the  time  when  I  should  once  more  welcome 
her  to  the  house  of  her  fathers,  and  restore  her  to  this  little  nest 
ling  place  of  her  childhood. 

At  length  my  evil  genius,  or  what,  perhaps,  is  the  same  thing, 
the  Muse,  inspired  me  with  the  notion  of  rhyming  again.  My 
uncle,  who  never  went  to  church,  used  on  Sundays  to  read  chap 
ters  out  of  the  Bible ;  and  Iron  John,  the  woman  from  the  lodge, 
and  myself,  were  his  congregation.  It  seemed  to  be  all  one  to 
him  what  he  read,  so  long  as  it  was  something  from  the  Bible. 
Sometimes,  therefore,  it  would  be  the  Song  of  Solomon,  and  this 
withered  anatomy  would  read  about  being  "  stayed  with  flagons, 
and  comforted  with  apples,  for  he  was  sick  of  love."  Sometimes 
he  would  hobble,  with  spectacles  on  nose,  through  whole  chapters 
of  hard  Hebrew  names  in  Deuteronomy,  at  which  the  poor 
woman  would  sigh  and  groan,  as  if  wonderfully  moved.  His 
favorite  book,  however,  was  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress ;"  and 
when  he  came  to  that  part  which  treats  of  Doubting  Castle  and 
Giant  Despair,  I  thought  invariably  of  him  and  his  desolate  old 
country-seat.  So  much  did  the  idea  amuse  me,  that  I  took  to 
scribbling  about  it  under  the  trees  in  the  park  ;  and  in  a  few  days 
had  made  some  progress  in  a  poem,  in  which  I  had  given  a  de- 


172  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


scription  of  the  place,  under  the  name  of  Doubting  Castle,  and 
personified  my  uncle  as  Giant  Despair. 

I  lost  my  poem  somewhere  about  the  house,  and  I  soon  sus 
pected  that  my  uncle  had  found  it,  as  he  harshly  intimated  to  me 
that  I  could  return  home,  and  that  I  need  not  come  and  see  him 
again  till  he  should  send  for  me. 

Just  about  this  time  my  mother  died.  I  cannot  dwell  upon 
the  circumstance.  My  heart,  careless  and  wayward  as  it  is, 
gushes  with  the  recollection.  Her  death  was  an  event  that  per 
haps  gave  a  turn  to  all  my  after  fortunes.  With  her  died  all 
that  made  home  attractive.  I  had  no  longer  any  body  whom  I 
'was  ambitious  to  please,  or  fearful  to  offend.  My  father  was  a 
good  kind  of  man  in  his  way,  but  he  had  bad  maxims  in  educa 
tion,  and  we  differed  in  material  points.  It  makes  a  vast  differ 
ence  in  opinion  about  the  utility  of  the  rod,  which  end  happens 
to  fall  to  one's  share.  I  never  could  be  brought  into  my  father's 
way  of  thinking  on  the  subject. 

I  now,  therefore,  began  to  grow  very  impatient  of  remaining 
at  school,  to  be  flogged  for  things  that  I  did  not  like.  I  longed 
for  variety,  especially  now  that  I  had  not  my  uncle's  house  to 
resort  to,  by  way  of  diversifying  the  dulness  of  school,  with  the 
dreariness  of  his  country-seat. 

I  was  now  almost  seventeen,  tall  for  my  age,  and  full  of  idle 
fancies.  I  had  a  roving,  inextinguishable  desire  to  see  different 
kinds  of  life,  and  different  orders  of  society ;  and  this  vagrant 
humor  had  been  fostered  in  me  by  Tom  Dribble,  the  prime  wag 
and  great  genius  of  the  school,  who  had  all  the  rambling  propen 
sities  of  a  poet. 

I  used  to  sit  at  my  desk  in  the  school,  on  a  fine  summer's 
day,  and  instead  of  studying  the  book  which  lay  open  before  me, 


BUCKTHORNE.  1?3 


my  eye  was  gazing  through  the  window  on  the  green  fields  and 
blue  hills.  How  I  envied  the  happy  groups  seated  on  the  tops 
of  stage-coaches,  chatting,  and  joking,  and  laughing,  as  they 
were  whirled  by  the  schoolhouse  on  their  way  to  the  metropolis. 
Even  the  wagoners,  trudging  along  beside  their  ponderous  teams, 
and  traversing  the  kingdom  from  one  end  to  the  other,  were 
objects  of  envy  to  me  :  I  fancied  to  myself  what  adventures  they 
must  experience,  and  what  odd  scenes  of  life  they  must  witness. 
All  this  was,  doubtless,  the  poetical  temperament  working  within 
me,  and  tempting  me  forth  into  a  world  of  its  own  creation,  which 
I  mistook  for  the  world  of  real  life. 

While  my  mother  lived,  this  strong  propensity  to  rove  was 
counteracted  by  the  stronger  attractions  of  home,  and  by  the 
powerful  ties  of  affection  which  drew  me  to  her  side ;  but  now 
that  she  was  gone,  the  attraction  had  ceased ;  the  ties  were 
severed.  I  had  no  longer  an  anchorage-ground  for  my  heart,  but 
was  at  the  mercy  of  every  vagrant  impulse,  Nothing  but  the 
narrow  allowance  on  which  my  father  kept  me,  and  the  conse 
quent  penury  of  my  purse,  prevented  me  from  mounting  the  top 
of  a  stage-coach,  and  launching  myself  adrift  on  the  great  ocean 
of  life. 

Just  about  this  time  the  village  was  agitated  for  a  day  or  two, 
by  the  passing  through  of  several  caravans,  containing  wild 
beasts,  and  other  spectacles,  for  a  great  fair  annually  held  at  a 
neighboring  town. 

I  had  never  seen  a  fair  of  any  consequence,  and  my  curiosity 
was  powerfully  awakened  by  this  bustle  of  preparation.  I  gazed 
with  respect  and  wonder  at  the  vagrant  personages  who  accom 
panied  these  caravans.  I  loitered  about  the  village  inn,  listening 
with  curiosity  and  delight  to  the  slang  talk  and  cant  jokes  of  the 


174  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


showmen  and  their  followers ;  and  I  felt  an  eager  desire  to  wit 
ness  this  fair,  which  my  fancy  decked  out  as  something  wonder 
fully  fine. 

A  holiday  afternoon  presented,  when  I  could  be  absent  from, 
noon  until  evening.  A  wagon  was  going  from  the  village  to  the 
fair ;  I  could  not  resist  the  tempation,  nor  the  eloquence  of  Tom 
Dribble,  who  was  a  truant  to  the  very  heart's  core.  We  hired 
seats,  and  set  off  full  of  boyish  expectation.  I  promised  myself 
that  I  would  but  take  a  peep  at  the  land  of  promise,  and  hasten 
back  again  before  my  absence  should  be  noticed. 

Heavens  !  how  happy  I  was  on  arriving  at  the  fair !  How  I 
was  enchanted  with  the  world  of  fun  and  pageantry  around  me ! 
The  humors  of  Punch,  the  feats  of  the  equestrians,  the  magical 
tricks  of  the  conjurors !  But  what  principally  caught  my  atten 
tion  was  an  itinerant  theatre,  where  a  tragedy,  pantomime,  and 
farce,  were  all  acted  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  ;  and  more  of 
the  dramatis  personse  murdered,  than  at  either  Drury  Lane  or 
Covent  Garden  in  the  course  of  a  whole  evening.  I  have  since 
seen  many  a  play  performed  by  the  best  actors  in  the  world,  but 
never  have  I  derived  half  the  delight  from  any  that  I  did  from 
this  first  representation. 

There  was  a  ferocious  tyrant  in  a  skullcap  like  an  inverted 
porringer,  and  a  dress  of  red  baize,  magnificently  embroidered 
with  gilt  leather  ;  with  his  face  so  bewhiskered,  and  his  eyebrows 
so  knit  and  expanded  with  burnt  cork,  that  he  made  my  heart 
quake  within  me,  as  he  stamped  about  the  little  stage.  I  was 
enraptured  too  with  the  surpassing  beauty  of  a  distressed  damsel 
in  faded  pink  silk,  and  dirty  white  muslin,  whom  he  held  in 
cruel  captivity  by  way  of  gaining  her  affections,  and  who  wept, 
and  wrung  her  hands,  and  flourished  a  ragged  Avhite  handker- 


BUCKTHORNE.  175 


chief,  from  the  top  of  an   impregnable  tower  of  the  size  of  a 
bandbox. 

Even  after  I  had  come  out  from  the  play,  I  could  not  tear 
myself  from  the  vicinity  of  the  theatre,  but  lingered,  gazing  and 
wondering,  and  laughing  at  the  dramatis  persona?  as  they  per 
formed  their  antics,  or  danced  upon  a  stage  in  front  of  the  booth, 
to  decoy  a  new  set  of  spectators. 

I  was  so  bewildered  by  the  scene,  and  so  lost  in  the  crowd  of 
sensations  that  kept  swarming  upon  me,  that  I  was  like  one  en 
tranced.  I  lost  my  companion,  Tom  Dribble,  in  a  tumult  and 
scuffle  that  took  place  near  one  of  the  shows  ;  but  I  was  too  much 
occupied  in  mind  to  think  long  about  him.  I  strolled  about  until 
dark,  when  the  fair  was  lighted  up,  and  a  new  scene  of  magic 
opened  upon  me.  The  illumination  of  the  tents  and  booths,  the 
brilliant  effect  of  the  stages  decorated  with  lamps,  with  dramatic 
groups  flaunting  about  them  in  gaudy  dresses,  contrasted  splen 
didly  with  the  surrounding  darkness  ;  while  the  uproar  of  drums, 
trumpets,  fiddles,  hautboys,  and  cymbals,  mingled  with  the  ha 
rangues  of  the  showmen,  the  squeaking  of  Punch,  and  the  shouts 
and  laughter  of  the  crowd,  all  united  to  complete  my  giddy  dis 
traction. 

Time  flew  without  my  perceiving  it.  When  I  came  to  my 
self  and  thought  of  the  school,  I  hastened  to  return.  I  inquired 
for  the  wagon  in  which  I  had  come  :  it  had  been  gone  for  hours  ! 
I  asked  the  time :  it  was  almost  midnight !  A  sudden  quaking 
seized  me.  How  was  I  to  get  back  to  school  ?  I  was  too  weary 
to  make  the  journey  on  foot,  and  I  knew  not  where  to  apply  for 
a  conveyance.  Even  if  I  should  find  one,  could  I  venture  to  dis 
turb  the  schoolhouse  long  after  midnight — to  arouse  that  sleeping 
lion  the  usher  in  the  very  midst  of  his  night's  rest  ? — the  idea 


176  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


was  too  dreadful  for  a  delinquent  schoolboy.  All  the  horrors  of 
return  rushed  upon  me.  My  absence  must  long  before  this  have 
been  remarked ; — and  absent  for  a  whole  night ! — a  deed  of  dark 
ness  not  easily  to  be  expiated.  The  rod  of  the  pedagogue  bud 
ded  forth  into  tenfold  terrors  before  my  affrighted  fancy.  I  pic 
tured  to  myself  punishment  and  humiliation  in  every  variety  of 
form,  and  my  heart  sickened  at  the  picture.  Alas  !  how  often 
are  the  petty  ills  of  boyhood  as  painful  to  our  tender  natures,  as 
are  the  sterner  evils  of  manhood  to  our  robuster  minds. 

I  wandered  about  among  the  booths,  and  I  might  have  de 
rived  a  lesson  from  my  actual  feelings,  how  much  the  charms  of 
this  world  depend  upon  ourselves ;  for  I  no  longer  saw  any  thing 
gay  or  delightful  in  the  revelry  around  me.  At  length  I  lay 
down,  wearied  and  perplexed,  behind  one  of  the  large  tents,  and, 
covering  myself  with  the  margin  of  the  tent  cloth,  to  keep  off 
the  night  chill,  I  soon  fell  asleep. 

I  had  not  slept  long,  when  I  was  awakened  by  the  noise  of 
merriment  within  an  adjoining  booth.  It  was  the  itinerant  thea 
tre,  rudely  constructed  of  boards  and  canvas.  I  peeped  through 
an  aperture,  and  saw  the  whole  dramatis  personae,  tragedy,  comedy, 
and  pantomime,  all  refreshing  themselves  after  the  final  dismissal 
of  their  auditors.  They  were  merry  and  gamesome,  and  made 
the  flimsy  theatre  ring  with  their  laughter.  I  was  astonished  to 
see  the  tragedy  tyrant  in  red  baize  and  fierce  whiskers,  who  had 
made  my  heart  quake  as  he  strutted  about  the  boards,  now  trans 
formed  into  a  fat,  good-humored  fellow ;  the  beaming  porringer 
laid  aside  from  his  brow,  and  his  jolly  face  washed  from  all  the 
terrors  of  burnt  cork.  I  was  delighted,  too,  to  see  the  distressed 
damsel,  in  faded  silk  and  dirty  muslin,  who  had  trembled  under 
his  tyranny,  and  afflicted  me  so  much  by  her  sorrows,  now  seated 


BUCKTHORNE.  177 


familiarly  on  his  knee,  and  quaffing  from  the  same  tankard.  Har 
lequin  lay  asleep  on  one  of  the  benches ;  and  monks,  satyrs,  and 
vestal  virgins,  were  grouped  together,  laughing  outrageously  at 
a  broad  story  told  by  an  unhappy  count,  who  had  been  barba 
rously  murdered  in  the  tragedy. 

This  was,  indeed,  novelty  to  me.  It  was  a  peep  into  another 
planet.  I  gazed  and  listened  with  intense  curiosity  and  enjoy 
ment.  They  had  a  thousand  odd  stories  and  jokes  about  the 
events  of  the  day,  and  burlesque  descriptions  and  mimickings  of 
the  spectators  who  had  been  admiring  them.  Their  conversation 
was  full  of  allusions  to  their  adventures  at  different  places  where 
they  had  exhibited  ;  the  characters  they  had  met  with  in  different 
villages  ;  and  the  ludicrous  difficulties  in  which  they  had  occa 
sionally  been  involved.  All  past  cares  and  troubles  were  now 
turned,  by  these  thoughtless  beings,  into  matter  of  merriment, 
and  made  to  contribute  to  the  gayety  of  the  moment.  They  had 
been  moving  from  fair  to  fair  about  the  kingdom,  and  were  the 
next  morning  to  set  out  on  their  way  to  London.  My  resolution 
was  taken.  I  stole  from  my  nest,  and  crept  through  a  hedge  into 
a  neighboring  field,  where  I  went  to  work  to  make  a  tatterdema 
lion  of  myself.  I  tore  my  clothes  ;  soiled  them  with  dirt ;  be 
grimed  my  face  and  hands,  and  crawling  near  one  of  the  booths, 
purloined  an  old  hat,  and  left  my  new  one  in  its  place.  It  was  an 
honest  theft,  and  I  hope  may  not  hereafter  rise  up  in  judgment 
against  me. 

I  now  ventured  to  the  scene  of  merry-making,  and  presenting 
myself  before  the  dramatic  corps,  offered  myself  as  a  volunteer. 
I  felt  terribly  agitated  and  abashed,  for  never  before  "  stood 
I  in  such  a  presence."  I  had  addressed  myself  to  the  manager 
of  the  company.  He  was  a  fat  man,  dressed  in  dirty  white,  with 

8* 


178  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


a  red  sash  fringed  with  tinsel  swathed  round  his  body ;  his  face 
was  smeared  with  paint,  and  a  majestic  plume  towered  from  an 
old  spangled  black  bonnet.  He  was  the  Jupiter  Tonans  of  this 
Olympus,  and  was  surrounded  by  the  inferior  gods  and  goddesses 
of  his  court.  He  sat  on  the  end  of  a  bench,  by  a  table,  with  one 
arm  akimbo,  and  the  other  extended  to  the  handle  of  a  tankard, 
which  he  had  slowly  set  down  from  his  lips,  as  he  surveyed  me 
from  head  to  foot.  It  was  a  moment  of  awful  scrutiny ;  and  I 
fancied  the  groups  around  all  watching  as  in  silent  suspense,  and 
waiting  for  the  imperial  nod. 

He  questioned  me  as  to  who  I  was ;  what  were  my  qualifica 
tions  ;  and  what  terms  I  expected.  I  passed  myself  off  for  a 
discharged  servant  from  a  gentleman's  family ;  and  as,  happily, 
one  does  not  require  a  special  recommendation  to  get  admitted 
into  bad  company,  the  questions  on  that  head  were  easily  satisfied. 
As  to  my  accomplishments,  I  could  spout  a  little  poetry,  and 
knew  several  scenes  of  plays,  which  I  had  learnt  at  school  exhi 
bitions,  I  could  dance  .  That  was  enough.  No  further 

questions  were  asked  me  as  to  accomplishments ;  it  was  the  very 
thing  they  wanted ;  and  as  I  asked  no  wages  but  merely  meat 
and  drink,  and  safe  conduct  about  the  world,  a  bargain  was  struck 
in  a  moment. 

Behold  me,  therefore,  transformed  on  a  sudden  from  a  gentle 
man  student  to  a  dancing  buffoon  ;  for  such,  in  fact,  was  the  cha 
racter  in  which  I  made  my  debut.  I  was  one  of  those  who 
formed  the  groups  in  the  dramas,  and  was  principally  employed 
on  the  stage  in  front  of  the  booth  to  attract  company.  I  was 
equipped  as  a  satyr,  in  a  dress  of  drab  frieze  that  fitted  to  my 
shape,  with  a  great  laughing  mask,  ornamented  with  huge  ears 
and  short  horns.  I  was  pleased  with  the  disguise,  because  it  kept 


BUCKTHORNE.  179 


me  from  the  danger  of  being  discovered,  whilst  we  were  in  that 
part  of  the  country ;  and  as  I  had  merely  to  dance  and  make 
antics,  the  character  was  favorable  to  a  debutant — being  almost 
on  a  par  with  Simon  Smug's  part  of  the  lion,  which  required 
nothing  but  roaring. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  happy  I  was  at  this  sudden  change  in 
my  situation.  I  felt  no  degradation,  for  I  had  seen  too  little  of 
society  to  be  thoughtful  about  the  difference  of  rank  ;  and  a  boy 
of  sixteen  is  seldom  aristocratical.  I  had  given  up  no  friend,  for 
there  seemed  to  be  no  one  in  the  world  that  cared  for  me  now 
that  my  poor  mother  was  dead ;  I  had  given  up  no  pleasure,  for 
my  pleasure  was  to  ramble  about  and  indulge  the  flow  of  a  poeti 
cal  imagination,  and  I  now  enjoyed  it  in  perfection.  There  is  no 
life  so  truly  poetical  as  that  of  a  dancing  buffoon. 

It  may  be  said  that  all  this  argued  grovelling  inclinations.  I 
do  not  think  so.  Not  that  I  mean  to  vindicate  myself  in  any 
great  degree :  I  know  too  well  what  a  whimsical  compound  I  am. 
But  in  this  instance  I  was  seduced  by  no  love  of  low  company, 
nor  disposition  to  indulge  in  low  vices.  I  have  always  despised 
the  brutally  vulgar,  and  had  a  disgust  at  vice,  whether  in  high  or 
low  life.  I  was  governed  merely  by  a  sudden  and  thoughtless 
impulse.  I  had  no  idea  of  resorting  to  this  profession  as  a  mode 
of  life,  or  of  attaching  myself  to  these  people,  as  my  future  class 
of  society.  I  thought  merely  of  a  temporary  gratification  to  my 
curiosity,  and  an  indulgence  of  my  humors.  I  had  already  a 
strong  relish  for  the  peculiarities  of  character  and  the  varieties 
of  situation,  and  I  have  always  been  fond  of  the  comedy  of  life, 
and  desirous  of  seeing  it  through  all  its  shifting  scenes. 

In  mingling,  therefore,  among  mountebanks  and  buffoons,  I 
was  protected  by  the  very  vivacity  of  imagination  which  had  led 


180  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


me  among  them ;  I  moved  about,  enveloped,  as  it  were,  in  a  pro 
tecting  delusion,  which  my  fancy  spread  around  me.  I  assimi 
lated  to  these  people  only  as  they  struck  me  poetically ;  their 
whimsical  ways  and  a  certain  picturesqueness  in  their  mode  of  life 
entertained  me  ;  but  I  was  neither  amused  nor  corrupted  by  their 
vices.  In  short,  I  mingled  among  them,  as  Prince  Hal  did  among 
his  graceless  associates,  merely  to  gratify  my  humor. 

I  did  not  investigate  my  motives  in  this  manner,  at  the  time, 
for  I  was  too  careless  and  thoughtless  to  reason  about  the  matter ; 
but  I  do  so  now,  when  1  look  back  with  trembling  to  think  of  the 
ordeal  to  which  I  unthinkingly  exposed  myself,  and  the  manner 
in  which  I  passed  through  it.  Nothing,  I  am  convinced,  but  the 
poetical  temperament,  that  hurried  me  into  the  scrape,  brought 
me  out  of  it  without  my  becoming  an  arrant  vagabond. 

Full  of  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment,  giddy  with  the  wildness 
of  animal  spirits,  so  rapturous  in  a  boy,  I  capered,  I  danced,  I 
played  a  thousand  fantastic  tricks  about  the  stage,  in  the  villages 
in  which  we  exhibited ;  and  I  was  universally  pronounced  the 
most  agreeable  monster  that  had  ever  been  seen  in  those  parts. 
My  disappearance  from  school  had  awakened  my  father's  anxiety ; 
for  I  one  day  heard  a  description  of  myself  cried  before  the  very 
booth  in  which  I  was  exhibiting,  with  the  offer  of  a  reward  for 
any  intelligence  of  me.  I  had  no  great  scruple  about  letting  my 
father  suffer  a  little  uneasiness  on  my  account ;  it  would  punish 
him  for  past  indifference,  and  would  make  him  value  me  the 
more  when  he  found  me  again. 

I  have  wondered  that  some  of  my  comrades  did  not  recognize 
me  in  the  stray  sheep  that  was  cried  ;  but  they  were  all,  no  doubt, 
occupied  by  their  own  concerns.  They  were  all  laboring  seriously 
in  their  antic  vocation ;  for  folly  was  a  mere  trade  with  most  of 


BUCKTHORNE.  181 


them,  and  they  often  grinned  and  capered  with  heavy  hearts. 
With  me,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  all  real.  I  acted  con  amore, 
and  rattled  and  laughed  from  the  irrepressible  gayety  of  my 
spirits.  It  is  true  that,  now  and  then,  I  started  and  looked 
grave  on  receiving  a  sudden  thwack  from  the  wooden  sword 
of  Harlequin  in  the  course  of  my  gambols,  as  it  brought  to 
mind  the  birch  of  my  schoolmaster.  But  I  soon  got  accus 
tomed  to  it,  and  bore  all  the  cuffing,  and  kicking,  and  tumb- 
lipro  about,  which  form  the  practical  wit  of  your  itinerant  panto 
mime,  with  a  good  humor  that  made  me  a  prodigious  favorite. 

The  country  campaign  of  the  troop  was  soon  at  an  end,  and 
we  set  oiF  for  the  metropolis,  to  perform  at  the  fairs  which  are 
held  in  its  vicinity.  The  greater  part  of  our  theatrical  property 
was  sent  on  direct,  to  be  in  a  state  of  preparation  for  the  opening 
of  the  fairs  ;  while  a  detachment  of  the  company  travelled  slowly 
on,  foraging  among  the  villages.  I  was  amused  with  the  desul 
tory,  hap-hazard  kind  of  life  we  led  ;  here  to-day  and  gone  to 
morrow.  Sometimes  revelling  in  ale-houses,  sometimes  feasting 
under  hedges  in  the  green  fields.  When  audiences  were  crowded, 
and  business  profitable,  we  fared  well ;  and  when  otherwise,  we 
fared  scantily,  consoled  ourselves,  and  made  up  with  anticipations 
of  the  next  day's  success. 

At  length  the  increasing  frequency  of  coaches  hurrying  past 
us,  covered  with  passengers  ;  the  increasing  number  of  carriages, 
carts,  wagons,  gigs,  droves  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep,  all 
thronging  the  road ;  the  snug  country  boxes  with  trim  flower- 
gardens,  twelve  feet  square,  and  their  treeg  twelve  feet  high,  all 
powdered  with  dust,  and  the  innumerable  seminaries  for  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen  situated  along  the  road  for  the  benefit  of 
country  air  and  rural  retirement ;  all  these  insignia  announced 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


that  the  mighty  London  was  at  hand.  The  hurry,  and  the  crowd, 
and  the  bustle,  and  the  noise,  and  the  dust,  increased  as  we  pro 
ceeded,  until  I  saw  the  great  cloud  of  smoke  hanging  in  the  air, 
like  a  canopy  of  state,  over  this  queen  of  cities. 

In  this  way,  then,  did  I  enter  the  metropolis,  a  strolling  vaga 
bond,  on  the  top  of  a  caravan,  with  a  crew  of  vagabonds  about 
me ;  but  I  was  as  happy  as  a  prince ;  for,  like  Prince  Hal,  I  felt 
myself  superior  to  my  situation,  and  knew  that  I  could  at  any 
time  cast  it  off,  and  emerge  into  my  proper  sphere. 

How  my  eyes  sparkled  as  we  passed  Hyde  Park  Corner,  and 
I  saw  splendid  equipages  rolling  by ;  with  powdered  footmen 
behind,  in  rich  liveries,  with  fine  nosegays,  and  gold-headed  canes; 
and  with  lovely  women  within,  so  sumptuously  dressed,  and  so 
surpassingly  fair !  I  was  always  extremely  sensible  to  female 
beauty,  and  here  I  saw  it  in  all  its  powers  of  fascination  :  for 
whatever  may  be  said  of  "  beauty  unadorned,"  there  is  something 
almost  awful  in  female  loveliness  decked  out  in  jewelled  state.  The 
swanlike  neck  encircled  with  diamonds  ;  the  raven  locks  clus 
tered  with  pearls ;  the  ruby  glowing  on  the  snowy  bosom,  are 
objects  which  I  could  never  contemplate  without  emotion ;  and  a 
dazzling  white  arm  clasped  with  bracelets,  and  taper,  transpa 
rent  fingers,  laden  with  sparkling  rings,  are  to  me  irresistible. 

My  very  eyes  ached  as  I  gazed  at  the  high  and  courtly  beauty 
before  me.  It  surpassed  all  that  my  imagination  had  conceived 
of  the  sex.  I  shrank,  for  a  moment,  into  shame  at  the  company 
in  which  I  was  placed,  and  repined  at  the  vast  distance  that 
seemed  to  intervene  between  me  and  these  magnificent  beings. 

I  forbear  to  give  a  detail  of  the  happy  life  I  led  about  the 
skirts  of  the  metropolis,  playing  at  the  various  fairs  held  there 
during  the  latter  part  of  spring,  and  the  beginning  of  summer. 


BUCKTHORNE.  183 


This  continued  change  from  place  to  place,  and  scene  to  scene, 
fed  ray  imagination  with  novelties,  and  kept  my  spirits  in  a  per 
petual  state  of  excitement.  As  I  was  tall  of  my  age,  I  aspired, 
at  one  time,  to  play  heroes  in  tragedy ;  but,  after  two  or  three 
trials,  I  was  pronounced  by  the  manager  totally  unfit  for  the  line  ; 
and  our  first  tragic  actress,  who  was  a  large  woman,  and  held  a 
small  hero  in  abhorrence,  confirmed  his  decision. 

The  fact  is,  I  had  attempted  to  give  point  to  language  which 
had  no  point,  and  nature  to  scenes  which  had  no  nature.  They 
said  I  did  not  fill  out  my  characters  ;  and  they  were  right.  The 
characters  had  all  been  prepared  for  a  different  sort  of  man. 
Our  tragedy  hero  was  a  round,  robustious  fellow,  with  an  amazing 
voice ;  who  stamped  and  slapped  his  breast  until  his  wig  shook 
again ;  and  who  roared  and  bellowed  out  his  bombast  until  every 
phrase  swelled  upon  the  ear  like  the  sound  of  a  kettle-drum.  I 
might  as  well  have  attempted  to  fill  out  his  clothes  as  his  charac 
ters.  When  we  had  a  dialogue  together,  I  was  nothing  before 
him,  with  my  slender  voice  and  discriminating  manner.  I 
might  as  well  have  attempted  to  parry  a  cudgel  with  a  small 
sword.  If  he  found  me  in  any  way  gaining  ground  upon  him,  he 
would  take  refuge  in  his  mighty  voice,  and  throw  his  tones  like 
peals  of  thunder  at  me,  until  they  were  drowned  in  the  still  louder 
thunders  of  applause  from  the  audience. 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  suspect  that  I  was  not  shown  fair  play, 
and  that  there  was  management  at  the  bottom  ;  for  without  vanity 
I  think  I  was  a  better  actor  than  he.  As  I  had  not  embarked  in 
the  vagabond  line  through  ambition,  I  did  not  repine  at  lack  of 
preferment ;  but  T  was  grieved  to  find  that  a  vagrant  life  was  not 
without  its  cares  and  anxieties  ;  and  that  jealousies,  intrigues,  and 
mad  ambition,  were  to  be  found  even  among  vagabonds. 


184  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


Indeed,  as  I  became  more  familiar  with  my  situation,  and  the 
delusions  of  fancy  gradually  faded  away,  I  began  to  find  that  my 
associates  were  not  the  happy  careless  creatures  I  had  at  first 
imagined  them.  They  were  jealous  of  each  other's  talents  ;  they 
quarrelled  about  parts,  the  same  as  the  actors  on  the  grand  thea 
tres  ;  they  quarrelled  about  dresses ;  and  there  was  one  robe  of 
yellow  silk,  trimmed  with  red,  and  a  head-dress  of  three  rumpled 
ostrich- feathers,  which  were  continually  setting  the  ladies  of  the 
company  by  the  ears.  Even  those  who  had  attained  the  highest 
honors  were  not  more  happy  than  the  rest ;  for  Mr.  Flimsey  him 
self,  our  first  tragedian,  and  apparently  a  jovial  good-humored 
fellow,  confessed  to  me  one  day,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  that 
he  was  a  miserable  man.  He  had  a  brother-in-law,  a  relative  by 
marriage,  though  not  by  blood,  who  was  manager  of  a  theatre  in 
a  small  country  town.  And  this  same  brother  ("  a  little  more 
than  kin  but  less  than  kind")  looked  down  upon  him,  and  treated 
him  with  contumely,  because,  forsooth,  he  was  but  a  strolling 
player.  I  tried  to  console  him  with  the  thoughts  of  the  vast 
applause  he  daily  received,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  He  declared 
that  it  gave  him  no  delight,  and  that  he  should  never  be  a  happy 
man,  until  the  name  of  Flimsey  rivalled  the  name  of  Crimp. 

How  little  do  those  before  the  scenes  know  of  what  passes 
behind  !  how  little  can  they  judge,  from  the  countenances  of 
actors,  of  what  is  passing  in  their  hearts !  I  have  known  two 
lovers  quarrel  like  cats  behind  the  scenes,  who  were,  the  moment 
after,  to  fly  into  each  other's  embraces.  And  I  have  dreaded, 
when  our  Belvidera  was  to  take  her  farewell  kiss  of  her  Jaffier, 
lest  she  should  bite  a  piece  out  of  his 'cheek.  Our  tragedian  was 
a  rough  joker  off  the  stage  ;  our  prime  clown  the  most  peevish 
mortal  living.  The  latter  used  to  go  about  snapping  and  snarl- 


BUCKTHORNE.  i~,3 

ing,  with  a  broad  laugh  painted  on  his  countenance ;  and  I  can 
assure  you,  that  whatever  may  be  said  of  the  gravity  of  a  monkey, 
or  the  melancholy  of  a  gibed  cat,  there  is  no  more  melancholy 
creature  in  existence  than  a  mountebank  off  duty. 

The  only  thing  in  which  all  parties  agreed,  was  to  backbite 
the  manager,  and  cabal  against  his  regulations.  This,  however, 
I  have  since  discovered  to  be  a  common  trait  of  human  nature, 
and  to  take  place  in  all  communities.  It  would  seem  to  be  the 
main  business  of  man  to  repine  at  government.  In  all  situations 
of  life  into  which  I  have  looked,  I  have  found  mankind  divided 
into  two  grand  parties  :  those  who  ride,  and  those  who  are  ridden. 
The  great  struggle  of  life  seems  to  be  which  shall  keep  in  the 
saddle.  This,  it  appears  to  me,  is  the  fundamental  principle  of 
politics,  whether  in  great  or  little  life.  However,  I  do  not  mean 
to  moralize — but  one  cannot  always  sink  the  philosopher. 

Well,  then,  to  return  to  myself,  it  was  determined,  as  I  said, 
that  I  was  not  fit  for  tragedy,  and,  unluckily,  as  my  study  was  bad, 
having  a  very  poor  memory,  I  was  pronounced  unfit  for  comedy 
also ;  besides,  the  line  of  young  gentlemen  was  already  engrossed 
by  an  actor  with  whom  I  could  not  pretend  to  enter  into  compe 
tition,  he  having  filled  it  for  almost  half  a  century.  I  came  down 
again,  therefore,  to  pantomime.  In  consequence,  however,  of  the 
good  offices  of  the  manager's  lady,  who  had  taken  a  liking  to  me, 
I  was  promoted  from  the  part  of  the  satyr  to  that  of  the  lover ; 
and  with  my  face  patched  and  painted,  a  huge  cravat  of  paper, 
a  steeple-crowned  hat,  and  dangling  long-skirted  sky-blue  coat, 
was  metamorphosed  into  the  lover  of  Columbine.  My  part  did  not 
call  for  much  of  the  tender  and  sentimental.  I  had  merely  to 
pursue  the  fugitive  fair  one ;  to  have  a  door  now  and  then 
slammed  in  my  face ;  to  run  my  head  occasionally  against  a  post ; 


186  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


to  tumble  and  roll  about  with  Pantaloon  and  the  Clown  ;  and  to 
endure  the  hearty  thwacks  of  Harlequin's  wooden  sword. 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  my  poetical  temperament  began  to 
ferment  within  me,  and  to  work  out  new  troubles.  The  inflam 
matory  air  of  a  great  metropolis,  added  to  the  rural  scenes  in 
which  the  fairs  were  held,  such  as  Greenwich  Park,  Epping 
Forest,  and  the  lovely  valley  of  the  West  End,  had  a  powerful 
effect  upon  me.  While  in  Greenwich  Park,  I  was  witness  to  the 
old  holiday  games  of  running  down  hill,  and  kissing  in  the  ring ; 
and  then  the  firmament  of  blooming  faces  and  blue  eyes  that 
would  be  turned  towards  me,  as  I  was  playing  antics  on  the 
stage ;  all  these  set  my  young  blood  and  my  poetical  vein  in  full 
flow.  In  short,  I  played  the  character  to  the  life,  and  became 
desperately  enamoured  of  Columbine.  She  was  a  trim,  well-made, 
tempting  girl,  with  a  roguish  dimpling  face,  and  fine  chestnut  hair 
clustering  all  about  it.  The  moment  I  got  fairly  smitten,  there 
was  an  end  to  all  playing.  I  was  such  a  creature  of  fancy  and 
feeling,  that  I  could  not  put  on  a  pretended,  when  I  was  power 
fully  affected  by  a  real  emotion.  I  could  not  sport  with  a  fictidn 
that  came  so  near  to  the  fact.  I  became  too  natural  in  my  acting 
to  succeed.  And  then,  what  a  situation  for  a  lover !  I  was  a 
mere  stripling,  and  she  played  with  my  passion  ;  for  girls  soon 
grow  more  adroit  and  knowing  in  these  matters  than  your  awk 
ward  youngsters.  What  agonies  had  I  to  suffer !  Every  time 
that  she  danced  in  front  of  the  booth,  and  made  such  liberal  dis 
plays  of  her  charms,  I  was  in  torment.  To  complete  my  misery, 
I  had  a  real  rival  in  Harlequin,  an  active,  vigorous,  knowing  var- 
let,  of  six-and-twenty.  What  had  a  raw,  inexperienced  youngster 
like  me  to  hope  from  such  a  competition  ? 

I  had  still,  however,  some  advantages  in  my  favor.     In  spite 


BUCKTHORNE.  187 


of  my  change  of  life,  I  retained  that  indescribable  something 
which  always  distinguishes  the  gentleman  ;  that  something  which 
dwells  in  a  man's  air  and  deportment,  and  not  in  his  clothes ;  and 
which  is  as  difficult  for  a  gentleman  to  put  off,  as  for  a  vulgar  fel 
low  to  put  on.  The  company  generally  felt  it,  and  used  to  call 
me  Little  Gentleman  Jack.  The  girl  felt  it  too,  and,  in  spite  of 
her  predilection  for  my  powerful  rival,  she  liked  to  flirt  with  me. 
This  only  aggravated  my  troubles,  by  increasing  my  passion,  and 
awakening  the  jealousy  of  her  party-colored  lover. 

Alas !  think  what  I  suffered  at  being  obliged  to  keep  up  an 
ineffectual  chase  after  my  Columbine  through  whole  pantomimes  ; 
to  see  her  carried  off  in  the  vigorous  arms  of  the  happy  Harlequin  ; 
and  to  be  obliged,  instead  of  snatching  her  from  him,  to  tumble 
sprawling  with  Pantaloon  and  the  Clown,  and  bear  the  infernal 
and  degrading  thwacks  of  my  rival's  weapon  of  lath,  which,  may 
heaven  confound  him !  (excuse  my  passion,)  the  villain  laid  on 
with  a  malicious  good-will:  nay,  I  could  absolutely  hear  him 
chuckle  and  laugh  beneath  his  accursed  mask — I  beg  pardon  for 
growing  a  little  warm  in  my  narrative — I  wish  to  be  cool,  but 
these  recollections  will  sometimes  agitate  me.  I  have  heard  and 
read  of  many  desperate  and  deplorable  situations  of  lovers,  but 
none,  I  think,  in  which  true  love  was  ever  exposed  to  so  severe 
and  peculiar  a  trial. 

This  could  not  last  long ;  flesh  and  blood,  at  least  such  flesh 
and  blood  as  mine,  could  not  bear  it.  I  had  repeated  heart-burn 
ings  and  quarrels  with  my  rival,  in  which  he  treated  me  with  the 
mortifying  forbearance  of  a  man  towards  a  child.  Had  he  quar 
relled  outright  with  me,  I  could  have  stomached  it,  at  least  I 
should  have  known  what  part  to  take ;  but  to  be  humored  and 
treated  as  a  child  in  the  presence  of  my  mistress,  when  I  felt  all 


188  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


the  bantam  spirit  of  a  little  man  swelling  within  me — Gods !  it 
was  insufferable ! 

At  length,  we  were  exhibiting  one  day  at  West  End  fair, 
which  was  at  that  time  a  very  fashionable  resort,  and  often  be 
leaguered  with  gay  equipages  from  town.  Among  the  spectators 
that  filled  the  first  row  of  our  little  canvas  theatre  one  afternoon, 
when  I  had  to  figure  in  a  pantomime,  were  a  number  of  young 
ladies  from  a  boarding-school,  with  their  governess.  Guess  my 
confusion,  when,  in  the  midst  of  my  antics,  I  beheld  among  the 
number  my  quondam  flame  ;  her  whom  I  had  berhymed  at  school, 
her  for  whose  charms  I  had  smarted  so  severely,  the  cruel  Sacha- 
rissa !  What  was  worse,  I  fancied  she  recollected  me,  and  was 
repeating  the  story  of  my  humiliating  flagellation,  for  I  saw  her 
whispering  to  her  companions  and  her  governess.  I  lost  all  con 
sciousness  of  the  part  I  was  acting,  and  of  the  place  where  I  was. 
I  felt  shrunk  to  nothing,  and  could  have  crept  into  a  rat-hole — 
unluckily,  none  was  open  to  receive  me.  Before  I  could  recover 
from  my  confusion,  I  was  tumbled  over  by  Pantaloon  and  the 
clown,  and  I  felt  the  sword  of  Harlequin  making  vigorous  assaults 
in  a  manner  most  degrading  to  my  dignity. 

Heaven  and  earth.!  was  I  again  to  suffer  martyrdom  in  this 
ignominious  manner,  in  the  knowledge  and  even  before  the  very 
eyes  of  this  most  beautiful,  but  most  disdainful  of  fair  ones  ?  All 
my  long-smothered  wrath  broke  out  at  once ;  the  dormant  feel 
ings  of  the  gentleman  arose  within  me.  Stung  to  the  quick  by 
intolerable  mortification,  I  sprang  on  my  feet  in  an  instant; 
leaped  upon  Harlequin  like  a  young  tiger ;  tore  off  his  mask ; 
buffeted  him  in  the  face  ;  and  soon  shed  more  blood  on  the  stage, 
than  had  been  spilt  upon  it  during  a  whole  tragic  campaign  of 
battles  and  murders. 


BUCKTHORNE.  189 


As  soon  as  Harlequin  recovered  from  his  surprise,  he  returned 
my  assault  with  interest.  I  was  nothing  in  his  hands.  I  was 
game,  to  be  sure,  for  I  was  a  gentleman ;  but  he  had  the  clownish 
r  advantage  of  bone  and  muscle.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  fought 
even  unto  the  death ;  and  I  was  likely  to  do  so,  for  he  was,  ac 
cording  to  the  boxing  phrase,  "  putting  my  head  into  chancery," 
when  the  gentle  Columbine  flew  to  my  assistance.  God  bless  the 
women !  they  are  always  on  the  side  of  the  weak  and  the  op 
pressed  ! 

The  battle  now  became  general ;  the  dramatis  personae 
ranged  on  either  side.  The  manager  interposed  in  vain ;  in  vain 
were  his  spangled  black  bonnet  and  towering  white  feathers  seen 
whisking  about,  and  nodding,  and  bobbing  in  the  thickest  of  the 
fight.  Warriors,  ladies,  priests,  satyrs,  kings,  queens,  gods,  and 
goddesses,  all  joined  pell-mell  in  the  affray  ;  never,  since  the  con 
flict  under  the  walls  of  Troy,  had  there  been  such  a  chance- 
medley  warfare  of  combatants,  human  and  divine.  The  audience 
applauded,  the  ladies  shrieked,  and  fled  from  the  theatre ;  and  a 
scene  of  discord  ensued  that  baffles  all  description. 

Nothing  but  the  interference  of  the  peace-officers  restored  some 
degree  of  order.  The  havoc,  however,  among  dresses  and 'deco 
rations,  put  an  end  to  all  further  acting  for  that  day.  The  battle 
over,  the  next  thing  was  to  inquire  why  it  was  begun  ;  a  common 
question  among  politicians  after  a  bloody  and  unprofitable  war, 
and  one  not  always  easy  to  be  answered.  It  was  soon  traced  to 
me,  and  my  unaccountable  transport  of  passion,  which  they  could 
only  attribute  to  my  having  run  a  muck.  The  manager  was 
judge  and  jury,  and  plaintiff  into  the  bargain ;  and  in  such  cases 
justice  is  always  speedily  administered.  He  came  out  of  the 
fight  as  sublime  a  wreck  as  the  Santissima  Trinidada.  His  gal- 


190  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

lant  plumes,  which  once  towered  aloft,  were  drooping  about  his 
ears ;  his  robe  of  state  hung  in  ribands  from  his  back,  and  but  ill 
concealed  the  ravages  he  had  suffered  in  the  rear.  He  had  re 
ceived  kicks  and  cuffs  from  all  sides  during  the  tumult ;  for  every 
one  took  the  opportunity  of  slyly  gratifying  some  lurking  grudge 
on  his  fat  carcass.  He  was  a  discreet  man,  and  did  not  choose  to 
declare  war  with  all  his  company,  so  he  swore  all  those  kicks  and 
cuffs  had  been  given  by  me,  and  I  let  him  enjoy  the  opinion. 
Some  wounds  he  bore,  however,  which  wore  the  incontestable 
traces  of  a  woman's  warfare :  his  sleek  rosy  cheek  was  scored  by 
trickling  furrows,  which  were  ascribed  to  the  nails  of  my  intrepid 
and  devoted  Columbine.  The  ire  of  the  monarch  was  not  to  be 
appeased ;  he  had  suffered  in  his  person,  and  he  had  suffered  in 
his  purse  ;  his  dignity,  too,  had  been  insulted,  and  that  went  for 
something ;  for  dignity  is  always  more  irascible,  the  more  petty 
the  potentate.  He  wreaked  his  wrath  upon  the  beginners  of  the 
affray,  and  Columbine  and  myself  were  discharged,  at  once,  from 
the  company. 

Figure  me,  then,  .to  yourself,  a  stripling  of  little  more  than 
sixteen,  a  gentleman  by  birth,  a  vagabond  by  trade,  turned  adrift 
upon  the  world,  making  the  best  of  my  way  through  the  crowd  of 
West  End  fair ;  my  mountebank  dress  fluttering  in  rags  about 
me  ;  the  weeping  Columbine  hanging  upon  my  arm,  in  splendid 
but  tattered  finery ;  the  tears  coursing  one  by  one  down  her  face, 
carrying  off  the  red  paint  in  torrents,  and  literally  "  preying 
upon  her  damask  cheek." 

The  crowd  made  way  for  us  as  we  passed,  and  hooted  in  our 
rear.  I  felt  the  ridicule  of  my  situation,  but  had  too  much  gal 
lantry  to  desert  this  fair  one,  who  had  sacrificed  every  thing  for 
me.  Having  wandered  through  the  fair,  we  emerged,  like  another 


BUCKTHORNS.  191 


Adam  and  Eve,  into  unknown  regions,  and  "  had  the  world  be 
fore  us,  where  to  choose."  Never  was  a  more  disconsolate  pair 
seen  in  the  soft  valley  of  West  End.  The  luckless  Columbine 
cast  many  a  lingering  look  at  the  fair,  which  seemed  to  put  on  a 
more  than  usual  splendor  :  its  tents,  and  booths,  and  party-colored 
groups,  all  brightening  in  the  sunshine,  and  gleaming  among  the 
trees ;  and  its  gay  flags  and  streamers  fluttering  in  the  light  sum 
mer  airs.  With  a  heavy  sigh  she  would  lean  on  my  arm  and 
proceed.  I  had  no  hope  nor  consolation  to  give  her;  but  she 
had  linked  herself  to  my  fortunes,  and  she  was  too  much  of  a 
woman  to  desert  me. 

Pensive  and  silent,  then,  we  traversed  the  beautiful  fields 
which  lie  behind  Hampstead,  and  wandered  on,  until  the  fiddle, 
and  the  hautboy,  and  the  shout,  and  the  laugh,  were  swallowed 
up  in  the  deep  sound  of  the  big  bass-drum,  and  even  that  died 
away  into  a  distant  rumble.  We  passed  along  the  pleasant, 
sequestered  walk  of  Nightingale-lane.  For  a  pair  of  lovers,  what 
scene  could  be  more  propitious  ? — But  such  a  pair  of  lovers ! 
Not  a  nightingale  sang  to  soothe  us :  the  very  gipsies,  who  were 
encamped  there  during  the  fair,  made  no  offer  to  tell  the  fortunes 
of  such  an  ill-omened  couple,  whose  fortunes,  I  suppose,  they 
thought  too  legibly  written  to  need  an  interpreter ;  and  the  gipsy 
children  crawled  into  their  cabins,  and  peeped  out  fearfully  at  us 
as  we  went  by.  For  a  moment  I  paused,  and  was  almost  tempted 
to  turn  gipsy,  but  the  poetical  feeling,  for  the  present,  was  fully 
satisfied,  and  I  passed  on.  Thus  we  travelled  and  travelled,  like  a 
prince  and  princess  in  a  nursery  tale,  until  we  had  traversed  a  part 
of  Hampstead  Heath,  and  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  Jack  Straw's 
Castle.  Here,  wearied  and  dispirited,  we  seated  ourselves  on  the 
margin  of  the  hill,  hard  by  the  very  milestone  where  Whittington 


192  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


of  yore  heard  the  Bow-bells  ring  out  the  presage  of  his  future 
greatness.  Alas  !  no  bell  rung  an  invitation  to  us,  as  we  looked 
disconsolately  upon  the  distant  city.  Old  London  seemed  to 
wrap  itself  unsociably  in  its  mantle  of  brown  smoke,  and  to  offer 
no  encouragement  to  such  a  couple  of  tatterdemalions. 

For  once,  at  least,  the  usual  course  of  the  pantomime  was 
reversed,  Harlequin  was  jilted,  and  the  lover  had  carried  off  Co 
lumbine  in  good  earnest.  But  what  was  I  to  do  with  her?  I 
could  not  take  her  in  my  hand,  return  to  my  father,  throw  myself 
on  my  knees,  and  crave  his  forgiveness  and  blessing,  according  to 
dramatic  usage.  The  very  dogs  would  have  chased  such  a  drag- 
gled-tailed  beauty  from  the  grounds. 

In  the  midst  of  my  doleful  dumps,  some  one  tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder,  and,  looking  up,  I  saw  a  couple  of  rough  sturdy  fellows 
standing  behind  me.  Not  knowing  what  to  expect,  I  jumped  on 
my  legs,  and  was  preparing  again  to  make  battle,  but  was  tripped 
up  and  secured  in  a  twinkling. 

"  Come,  come,  young  master,"  said  one  of  the  fellows,  in  a 
gruff  but  good-humored  tone,  "  don't  let's  have  any  of  your  tan 
trums  ;  one  would  have  thought  you  had  had  swing  enough  fqr 
this  bout.  Come;  it's  high  time  to  leave  off harlequinading,  and 
go  home  to  your  father." 

In  fact,  I  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  remorseless  men.  The 
cruel  Sacharissa  had  proclaimed  who  I  was,  and  that  a  reward 
had  been  offered  throughout  the  country  for  any  tidings  of  me  ; 
and  they  had  seen  a  description  of  me  which  had  been  inserted 
in  the  public  papers.  Those  harpies,  therefore,  for  the  mere  sake 
of  filthy  lucre,  were  resolved  to  deliver  me  over  into  the  hands 
of  my  father,  and  the  clutches  of  my  pedagogue. 

In  vain  I  swore  I  would  not  leave  my  faithful  and  afflicted 


BUCKTHORNE.  193 


Columbine.  In  vain  I  tore  myself  from  their  grasp,  and  flew  to 
her ;  and  vowed  to  protect  her ;  and  wiped  the  tears  from  her 
cheek,  and  with  them  a  whole  blush  that  might  have  vied  with 
the  carnation  for  brilliancy.  My  persecutors  were  inflexible ; 
they  even  seemed  to  exult  in  our  distress ;  and  to  enjoy  this 
theatrical  display  of  dirt,  and  finery,  and  tribulation.  I  was 
carried  off  in  despair,  leaving  my  Columbine  destitute  in  the 
wide  world ;  but  many  a  look  of  agony  did  I  cast  back  at  her  as 
she  stood  gazing  piteously  after  me  from  the  brink  of  Hampstead 
Hill ;  so  forlorn,  so  fine,  so  ragged,  so  bedraggled,  yet  so 
beautiful. 

Thus  ended  my  first  peep  into  the  world.  I  returned  home, 
rich  in  good-for-nothing  experience,  and  dreading  the  reward  I 
was  to  receive  for  my  improvement.  My  reception,  however, 
was  quite  different  from  what  I  had  expected.  My  father  had  a 
spice  of  the  devil  in  him,  and  did  not  seem  to  like  me  the  worse 
for  my  freak,  which  he  termed  "  sowing  my  wild  oats."  He 
happened  to  have  some  of  his  sporting  friends  to  dine  the  very 
day  of  my  return ;  they  made  me  tell  some  of  my  adventures, 
and  laughed  heartily  at  them. 

One  old  fellow,  with  an  outrageously  red  nose,  took  to  me 
hugely.  I  heard  him  whisper  to  my  father  that  I  was  a  lad  of 
mettle,  and  might  make  something  clever;  to  which  my  father 
replied,  that  I  had  good  points,  but  was  an  ill-broken  whelp, 
and  required  a  great  deal  of  the  whip.  Perhaps  this  very  con 
versation  raised  me  a  little  in  his  esteem,  for  I  found  the  red- 
nosed  old  gentleman  was  a  veteran  fox-hunter  of  the  neighbor 
hood,  for  whose  opinion  my  father  had  vast  deference.  Indeed,' 
I  believe  he  would  have  pardoned  any  thing  in  me  more  readily 
than  poetry,  which  he  called  a  cursed,  sneaking,  puling,  house- 

9 


194  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


keeping  employment,  the  bane  of  all  fine  manhood.  He  swore  it 
was  unworthy  of  a  youngster  of  my  expectations,  who  was  one 
day  to  have  so  great  an  estate,  and  would  be  able  to  keep  horses 
and  hounds,  and  hire  poets  to  write  songs  for  him  into  the 
bargain. 

I  had  now  satisfied,  for  a  time,  my  roving  propensity.  I  had 
exhausted  the  poetical  feeling.  I  had  been  heartily  buffeted  out 
of  my  love  for  theatrical  display.  I  felt  humiliated  by  my  expo 
sure,  and  willing  to  hide  my  head  any  where  for  a  season,  so  that 
I  might  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  ridicule  of  the  world ;  for  I 
found  folks  not  altogether  so  indulgent  abroad  as  they  were  at  my 
father's  table.  I  could  not  stay  at  home  ;  the  house  was  intolera 
bly  doleful  now  that  my  mother  was  no  longer  there  to  cherish 
me.  Every  thing  around  spoke  mournfully  of  her.  The  little 
flower-garden  in  which  she  delighted  was  all  in  disorder  and 
overrun  with  weeds.  I  attempted  for  a  day  or  two  to  arrange  it, 
but  my  heart  grew  heavier  and  heavier  as  I  labored.  Every 
little  broken-down  flower,  that  I  had  seen  her  rear  so  tenderly, 
seemed  to  plead  in  mute  eloquence  to  rny  feelings.  There  was  a 
favorite  honeysuckle  which  I  had  seen  her  often  training  with 
assiduity,  and  had  heard  her  say  it  would  be  the  pride  of  her 
garden.  I  found  it  grovelling  along  the  ground,  tangled  and  wild, 
and  twining  round  every  worthless  weed ;  and  it  struck  me  as  an 
emblem  of  myself,  a  mere  scatterling,  running  to  waste  and  use- 
lessness.  I  could  work  no  longer  in  the  garden. 

My  father  sent  me  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  uncle,  by  way  of  keep 
ing  the  old  gentleman  in  mind  of  me.  I  was  received,  as  usual, 
without  any  expression  of  discontent,  which  we  always  considered 
equivalent  to  a  hearty  welcome.  Whether  he  had  ever  heard  of 
my  strolling  freak  or  not,  I  could  not  discover,  he  and  his  man 


BUCKTHORNE.  195 


were  both  so  taciturn.  I  spent  a  day  or  two  roaming  about  the 
dreary  mansion  and  neglected  park,  and  felt  at  one  time,  I  believe, 
a  touch  of  poetry,  for  I  was  tempted  to  drown  myself  in  a  fish 
pond  ;  I  rebuked  the  evil  spirit,  however,  and  it  left  me.  I  found 
the  same  red-headed  boy  running  wild  about  the  park,  but  I  felt 
in  no  humor  to  hunt  him  at  present.  On  the  contrary.  I  tried  to 
coax  him  to  me,  and  to  make  friends  with  him ;  but  the  young 
savage  was  untamable. 

When  I  returned  from  my  uncle's,  I  remained  at  home  for 
some  time,  for  my  father 'was  disposed,  he  said,  to  make  a  man 
of  me.  He  took  me  out  hunting  with  him,  and  I  became  a  great 
favorite  of  the  red-nosed  squire,  because  I  rode  at  every  thing, 
never  refused  the  boldest  leap,  and  was  always  sure  to  be  in  at 
the  death.  I  used  often,  however,  to  offend  my  father  at  hunting- 
dinners,  by  taking  the  wrong  side  in  politics.  My  father  was 
amazingly  ignorant,  so  ignorant,  in  fact,  as  not  to  know  that  he 
knew  nothing.  He  was  stanch,  however,  to  church  and  king,  and 
full  of  old-fashioned  prejudices.  Now  I  had  picked  up  a  little 
knowledge  in  politics  and  religion  during  my  rambles  with  the 
strollers,  and  found  myself  capable  of  setting  him  right  as  to 
many  of  his  antiquated  notions.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  do  sa ;  we 
were  apt,  therefore,  to  differ  occasionally  in  the  political  cnscu%- 
sions  which  sometimes  arose  at  those  hunting-dinners.  f  '^. 

I  was  at  that  age  when  a  man  knows  least,  and  is  most  vain 
of  his  knowledge,  and  when  he  is  extremely  tenacious  in  defend 
ing  his  opinion  upon  subjects  about  which  he  knows  nothing.  My 
father  was  a  hard  man  for  any  one  to  argue  with,  for  he  never 
knew  when  he  was  refuted.  I  sometimes  posed  him  a  little,  but 
then  he  had  one  argument  that  always  settled  the  question ;  he 
would  threaten  to  knock  me  down.  I  believe  he  at  last  grew 


196  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


tired  of  me,  because  I  both  outtalked  and  outrode  him.  The 
red-nosed  squire,  too,  got  out  of  conceit  with  me,  because  in  the 
heat  of  the  chase,  I  rode  over  him  one  day  as  he  and  his  horse 
lay  sprawling  in  the  dirt :  so  I  found  myself  getting  into  disgrace 
with  all  the  world,  and  would  have  got  heartily  out  of  humor  with 
myself,  had  I  not  been  kept  in  tolerable  self-conceit  by  the  par 
son's  three  daughters. 

They  were  the  same  who  had  admired  my  poetry  on  a  former 
occasion,  when  it  had  brought  me  into  disgrace  at  school ;  and  I 
had  ever  since  retained  an  exalted  idea  of  their  judgment.  In 
deed,  they  were  young  ladies  not  merely  of  taste  but  of  science. 
Their  education  had  been  superintended  by  their  mother,  who  was 
a  blue-stocking.  They  knew  enough  of  botany  to  tell  the  techni 
cal  names  of  all  the  flowers  in  the  garden,  and  all  their  secret 
concerns  into  the  bargain.  They  knew  music  too,  not  mere  com 
mon-place  music,  but  Rossini  and  Mozart,  and  they  sang  Moore's 
Irish  Melodies  to  perfection.  They  had  pretty  little  work-tables, 
covered  with  all  kinds  of  objects  of  taste  ;  specimens  of  lava,  and 
painted  eggs,  and  work-boxes,  painted  and  varnished  by  them 
selves.  They  excelled  in  knotting  and  netting,  and  painted  in 
wate^colors  ;  and  made  feather  fans,  and  fire-screens,  and  worked 
in  silks  and  worsteds  ;  and  talked  French  and  Italian,  and  knew 
Shakspeare  by  heart.  They  even  knew  something  of  geology 
and  mineralogy;  and  went  about  the  neighborhood  knocking 
stones  to  pieces,  to  the  great  admiration  and  perplexity  of  the 
country  folk. 

I  am  a  little  too  minute,  perhaps,  in  detailing  their  accom 
plishments,  but  I  wish  to  let  you  see  that  these  were  not  common 
place  young  ladies,  but  had  pretensions  quite  above  the  ordinary 
run.  It  was  some  consolation  to  me,  therefore,  to  find  favor  in 


BUCKTHORNE.  197 


such  eyes.  Indeed,  they  had  always  marked  me  out  for  a  genius, 
and  considered  my  late  vagrant  freak  as  fresh  proof  of  the  fact. 
They  observed  that  Shakspeare  himself  had  been  a  mere  pickle  in 
his  youth;  that  he  had  stolen  a  deer,  as  every  one  knew,  and 
kept  loose  company,  and  consorted  with  actors :  so  I  comforted 
myself  marvellously  with  the  idea  of  having  so  decided  a  Shak- 
speariari  trait  in  my  character. 

The  youngest  of  the  three,  however,  was  my  grand  consola 
tion.  She  was  a  pale,  sentimental  girl,  with  long  "  hyacinthine  " 
ringlets  hanging  about  her  face.  She  wrote  poetry  herself,  and 
we  kept  up  a  poetical  correspondence.  She  had  a  taste  for  the 
drama,  too,  and  I  taught  her  how  to  act  several  of  the  scenes  in 
Romeo  and  Juliet.  I  used  to  rehearse  the  garden  scene  under  her 
lattice,  which  looked  out  from  among  woodbine  and  honeysuckles 
into  the  churchyard.  I  began  to  think  her  amazingly  pretty  as 
well  as  clever,  and  I  believe  I  should  have  finished  by  falling  in 
love  with  her,  had  not  her  father  discovered  our  theatrical  studies. 
He  was  a  studious,  abstracted  man,  generally  too  much  absorbed 
in  his  learned  and  religious  labors  to  notice  the  little  foibles  of  his 
daughters,  and  perhaps  blinded  by  a  father's  fondness  ;  but  he 
unexpectedly  put  his  head  out  of  his  study-window  one  day  in 
the  midst  of  a  scene,  and  put  a  stop  to  our  rehearsals.  He  had 
a  vast  deal  of  that  prosaic  good  sense  which  I  for  ever  found  a 
stumbling-block  in  my  poetical  path.  My  rambling  freak  had  not 
struck  the  good  man  as  poetically  as  it  had  his  daughters.  He 
drew  his  comparison  from  a  different  manual.  He  looked  upon 
me  as  a  prodigal  son,  and  doubted  whether  I  should  ever  arrive 
at  the  happy  catastrophe  of  the  fatted  calf. 

I  fancy  some  intimation  was  given  to  my  father  of  this  new 
breaking  out  of  my  poetical  temperament,  for  he  suddenly  inti- 


198  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


mated  that  it  was  high  time  I  should  prepare  for  the  university. 
I  dreaded  a  return  to  the  school  whence  I  had  eloped  :  the  ridi 
cule  of  my  fellow-scholars,  and  the  glance  from  the  squire's  pew, 
would  have  been  worse  than  death  to  me.  I  was  fortunately 
spared  the  humiliation.  My  father  sent  me  to  board  with  a 
country  clergyman,  who  had  three  or  four  boys  under  his  care. 
I  went  to  him  joyfully,  for  I  had  often  heard  my  mother  mention 
him  with  esteem.  In  fact  he  had  been  an  admirer  of  hers  in  his 
younger  days,  though  too  humble  in  fortune  and  modest  in  preten 
sions  to  aspire  to  her  hand ;  but  he  had  ever  retained  a  tender 
regard  for  her.  He  was  a  good  man ;  a  worthy  specimen  of  that 
valuable  body  of  our  country  clergy  who  silently  and  unostenta 
tiously  do  a  vast  deal  of  good ;  who  are,  as  it  were,  woven  into 
the  whole  system  of  rural  life,  and  operate  upon  it  with  the  steady 
yet  unobtrusive  influence  of  temperate  piety  and  learned  good 
sense.  He  lived  in  a  small  village  not  far  from  Warwick,  one 
of  those  little  communities  where  the  scanty  flock  is,  in  a  manner, 
folded  into  the  bosom  of  the  pastor.  The  venerable  church,  in 
its  grass-grown  cemetery,  was  one  of  those  rural  temples  scattered 
about  our  country  as  if  to  sanctify  the  land. 

I  have  the  worthy  pastor  before  my  mind's  eye  at  this  mo 
ment,  with  his  mild  benevolent  countenance,  rendered  still  more 
venerable  by  his  silver  hairs.  I  have  him  before  me,  as  I  saw 
him  on  my  arrival,  seated  in  the  embowered  porch  of  his  small 
parsonage,  with  a  flower-garden  before  it,  and  his  pupils  gathered 
round  him  like  his  children.  I  shall  never  forget  his  reception 
of  me,  for  I  believe  he  thought  of  my  poor  mother  at  the  time, 
and  his  heart  yearned  towards  her  child.  His  eye  glistened  when 
he  received  me  at  the  door,  and  he  took  me  into  his  arms  as  the 
adopted  child  of  his  affections.  Never  had  I  been  so  fortunately 


BUCKTHORNS.  199 


placed.  He  was  one  of  those  excellent  members  of  our  church, 
who  help  out  their  narrow  salaries  by  instructing  a  few  gentle 
men's  sons.  I  am  convinced  those  little  seminaries  are  among 
the  best  nurseries  of  talent  and  virtue  in  the  land.  Both  heart 
and  mind  are  cultivated  and  improved.  The  preceptor  is  the 
companion  and  the  friend  of  his  pupils.  His  sacred  character 
gives  him  dignity  in  their  eyes,  and  his  solemn  functions  produce 
that  elevation  of  mind  and  sobriety  of  conduct  necessary  to  those 
who  are  to  teach  youth  to  think  and  act  worthily. 

I  speak  from  my  own  random  observation  and  experience ; 
but  I  think  I  speak  correctly.  At  any  rate,  I  can  trace  much  of 
what  is  good  in  my  own  heterogeneous  compound  to  the  short 
time  I  was  under  the  instruction  of  that  good  man.  He  entered 
into  the  cares  and  occupations  and  amusements  of  his  pupils ;  and 
won  his  way  into  our  confidence,  and  studied  our  hearts  and 
minds  more  intently  than  we  did  our  books. 

He  soon  sounded  the  depth  of  my  character.  I  had  become, 
as  I  have  already  hinted,  a  little  liberal  in  my  notions,  and  apt  to 
philosophize  on  both  politics  and  religion ;  having  seen  something 
of  men  and  things,  and  learnt,  from  my  fellow-philosophers,  the 
strollers,  to  despise  all  vulgar  prejudices.  He  did  not  attempt  to 
cast  down  my  vainglory,  nor  to  question  my  right  view  of  things  ; 
he  merely  instilled  into  my  mind  a  little  information  on  these 
topics ;  though  in  a  quiet  unobtrusive  way,  that  never  ruffled  a 
feather  of  my  self-conceit.  I  was  astonished  to  find  what  a 
change  a  little  knowledge  makes  in  one's  mode  of  viewing  mat 
ters  ;  and  how  different  a  subject  is  when  one  thinks,  or  when  one 
only  talks  about  it.  I  conceived  a  vast  deference-for  my  teacher, 
and  was  ambitious  of  his  good  opinion.  In  my  zeal  to  make  a 
favorable  impression,  I  presented  him  with  a  whole  ream  of  my 


200  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


poetry.  He  read  it  attentively,  smiled,  and  pressed  my  hand 
when  he  returned  it  to  me,  but  said  nothing.  The  next  day  he 
set  me  at  mathematics. 

Somehow  or  other  the  process  of  teaching  seemed  robbed  by 
him  of  all  its  austerity.  I  was  not  conscious  that  he  thwarted  an 
inclination  or  opposed  a  wish ;  but  I  felt  that,  for  the  time,  my 
inclinations  were  entirely  changed.  I  became  fond  of  study,  and 
zealous  to  improve  myself.  I  made  tolerable  advances  in  studies 
which  I  had  before  considered  as  unattainable,  and  I  wondered 
at  my  own  proficiency.  I  thought,  too,  I  astonished  my  precep 
tor  ;  for  I  often  caught  his  eyes  fixed  upon  me  with  a  peculiar 
expression.  I  suspect,  since,  that  he  was  pensively  tracing  in  my 
countenance  the  early  lineaments  of  my  mother. 

Education  was  not  apportioned  by  him  into  tasks,  and  enjoined 
as  a  labor,  to  be  abandoned  with  joy  the  moment  the  hour  of 
study  was  expired.  We  had,  it  is  true,  our  allotted  hours  of  oc 
cupation,  to  give  us  habits  of  method,  and  of  the  distribution  of 
time ;  but  they  were  made  pleasant  to  us,  and  our  feelings  were 
enlisted  in  the  cause.  When  they  were  over,  education  still  went 
on.  It  pervaded  all  our  relaxations  and  amusements.  There 
was  a  steady  march  of  improvement.  Much  of  his  instruction 
was  given  during  pleasant  rambles,  or  when  seated  on  the  margin 
of  the  Avon ;  and  information  received  in  that  way,  often  makes 
a  deeper  impression  than  when  acquired  by  poring  over  books. 
I  have  many  of  the  pure  and  eloquent  precepts  that  flowed  from 
his  lips  associated  in  my  mind  with  lovely  scenes  in  nature,  which 
make  the  recollection  of  them  indescribably  delightful. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  any  miracle  was  effected  with  me. 
After  all  said  and  done,  I  was  but  a  weak  disciple.  My  poetical 
temperament  still  wrought  within  me  and  wrestled  hard  with  wis- 


BUCKTHORNE.  201 


dom,  and,  I  fear,  maintained  the  mastery.  I  found  mathematics 
an  intolerable  task  in  fine  weather.  I  would  be  prone  to  forget 
my  problems,  to  watch  the  birds  hopping  about  the  windows,  or 
the  bees  humming  about  the  honeysuckles  ;  arid  whenever  I  could 
steal  away,  I  would  wander  about  the  grassy  borders  of  the  Avon, 
and  excuse  this  truant  propensity  to  myself  with  the  idea  that  I 
was  treading  classic  ground,  over  which  Shakspeare  had  wander 
ed.  What  luxurious  idleness  have  I  indulged,  as  I  lay  under  the 
trees  and  watched  the  silver  waves  rippling  through  the  arches 
of  the  broken  bridge,  and  laving  the  rocky  bases  of  old  Warwick 
Castle  ;  and  how  often  have  I  thought  of  sweet  Shakspeare,  and 
in  my  boyish  enthusiasm  have  kissed  the  waves  which  had  washed 
his  native  village. 

My  good  preceptor  would  often  accompany  me  in  these  desul 
tory  rambles.  He  Bought  to  get  hold  of  this  vagrant  mood  of  mind 
and  turn  it  to  some  account.  He  endeavored  to  teach  me  to 
mingle  thought  with  mere  sensation  ;  to  moralize  on  the  scenes 
around  ;  and  to  make  the  beauties  of  nature  administer  to  the 
understanding  and  the  heart.  He  endeavored  to  direct  my  imagi 
nation  to  high  and  noble  objects,  and  to  fill  it  with  lofty  images. 
In  a  word,  he  did  all  he  could  to  make  the  best  of  a  poetical  tem 
perament,  and  to  counteract  the  mischief  which  had  been  done 
to  me  by  my  great  expectations. 

Had  I  been  earlier  put  under  the  care  of  the  good  pastor,  or 
remained  with  him  a  longer  time,  I  really  believe  he  would  have 
made  something  of  me.  He  had  already  brought  a  great  deal 
of  what  had  been  flogged  into  me  into  tolerable  order,  and  had 
weeded  out  much  of  the  unprofitable  wisdom  which  had  sprung 
up  in  my  vagabondizing.  I  already  began  to  find  that  with  all 
my  genius  a  little  study  would  be  no  disadvantage  to  me ;  and,  in 

9* 


202  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


spite  of  my  vagrant  freaks,  I  began  to  doubt  my  being  a  second 
Shak&peare. 

Just  as  I  was  making  these  precious  discoveries,  the  good 
parson  died.  It  was  a  melancholy  day  throughout  the  neighbor 
hood.  He  had  his  little  flock  of  scholars,  his  children,  as  he  used 
to  call  us,  gathered  round  him  in  his  dying  moments  ;  and  he  gave 
us  the  parting  advice  of  a  father,  now  that  he  had  to  leave  us, 
and  we  were  to  be  separated  from  each  other,  and  scattered  about 
in  the  world.  He  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  talked  with  me 
earnestly  and  affectionately,  and  called  to  mind  my  mother,  and 
used  her  name  to  enforce  his  dying  exhortations,  for  I  rather 
think  he  considered  me  the  most  erring  and  heedless  of  his  flock. 
He  held  my  hand  in  his,  long  after  he  had  done  speaking,  and 
kept  his  eye  fixed  on  me  tenderly  and  almost  piteously :  his  lips 
moved  as  if  he  were  silently  praying  for  me  j»  and  he  died  away, 
still  holding  me  by  the  hand. 

There  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  church  when  the  funeral  ser 
vice  was  read  from  the  pulpit  from  which  he  had  so  often  preach 
ed.  When  the  body  was  committed  to  the  earth,  our  little  band 
gathered  round  it,  and  watched  the  coffin  as  it  was  lowered  into 
the  grave.  The  parishioners  looked  at  us  with  sympathy ;  for  we 
were  mourners  not  merely  in  dress  but  in  heart.  We  lingered 
about  the  grave,  and  clung  to  one  another  for  a  time,  weeping 
and  speechless,  and  then  parted,  like  a  band  of  brothers 
parting  from  the  paternal  hearth,  never  to  assemble  there 
again. 

How  had  the  gentle  spirit  of  that  good  man  sweetened  our 
natures,  and  linked  our  young  hearts  together  by  the  kindest  ties ! 
I  have  always  had  a  throb  of  pleasure  at  meeting  with  an  old 
schoolmate,  even  though  one  of  my  truant  associates ;  but  when- 


BUCKTHORNE.  203 


ever,  in  the  course  of  my  life,  I  have  encountered  one  of  that 
little  flock  with  which  I  was  folded  on  the  banks  of  the  Avon,  it 
has  been  with  a  gush  of  affection,  and  a  glow  of  virtue,  that  for 
the  moment  have  made  me  a  better  man. 

I  was  now  sent  to  Oxford,  and  was  wonderfully  impressed  on 
first  entering  it  as  a  student.  Learning  here  puts  on  all  its  ma 
jesty.  It  is  lodged  in  palaces  ;  it  is  sanctified  by  the  sacred  cer 
emonies  of  religion ;  it  has  a  pomp  and  circumstance  which 
powerfully  affect  the  imagination.  Such,  at  least,  it  had  in  my 
eyes,  thoughtless  as  I  was.  My  previous  studies  with  the  worthy 
pastor  had  prepared  me  to  regard  it  with  deference  and  awe. 
He  had  been  educated  here,  and  always  spoke  of  the  University 
with  filial  fondness  and  classic  veneration.  When  I  beheld  the 
clustering  spires  and  pinnacles  of  this  most  august  of  cities  rising 
from  the  plain,  I  hailed  them  in  my  enthusiasm  as  the  points 
of  a  diadem,  which  the  nation  had  placed  upon  the  brows  of 
science. 

For  a  time  old  Oxford  was  full  of  enjoyment  for  me.  There 
was  a  charm  about  its  monastic  buildings  ;  its  great  Gothic  quad 
rangles  ;  its  solemn  halls,  and  shadowy  cloisters.  I  delighted,  in 
the  evenings,  to  get  in  places  surrounded  by  the  colleges,  where 
all  modern  buildings  were  screened  from  the  sight ;  and  to  see 
the  professors  and  students  sweeping  along  in  the  dusk  in  their 
antiquated  caps  and  gowns.  I  seemed  for  a  time  to  be  trans 
ported  among  the  people  and  edifices  of  the  old  times.  I  was  a 
frequent  attendant,  also,  of  the  evening  service  in  the  New  Col 
lege  Hall ;  to  hear  the  fine  organ,  and  the  choir  swelling  an  an 
them  in  that  solemn  building,  where  painting,  music,  and  archi 
tecture,  are  in  such  admirable  unison. 

A  favorite  haunt,  too,  was  the  beautiful  walk  bordered  by 


204  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


lofty  elms  along  the  river,  behind  the  gray  walls  of  Magdalen 
College,  which  goes  by  the  name  of  Addison's  Walk,  from  being 
his  favorite  resort  when  an  Oxford  student.  I  became  also  a 
lounger  in  the  Bodleian  library,  and  a  great  dipper  into  books, 
though  I  cannot  say  that  I  studied  them ;  in  fact,  being  no  longer 
under  direction  or  control,  I  was  gradually  relapsing  into  mere 
indulgence  of  the  fancy.  Still  this  would  have  been  pleasant  and 
harmless  enough,  and  I  might  have  awakened  from  mere  literary 
dreaming  to  something  better.  The  chances  were  in  my  favor, 
for  the  riotous  times  of  the  University  were  past.  The  days  of 
hard  drinking  were  at  an  end.  The  old  feuds  of  "  Town  and 
Gown,"  like  the  civil  wars  of  the  White  and  Red  Rose,  had  died 
away  ;  and  student  and  citizen  slept  in  peace  and  whole  skins, 
without  risk  of  being  summoned  in  the  night  to  bloody  brawl. 
It  had  become  the  fashion  to  study  at  the  University,  and  the 
odds  were  always  in  favor  of  my  following  the  fashion.  Un 
luckily,  however,  I  fell  in  company  with  a  special  knot  of  young 
fellows,  of  lively  parts  and  ready  wit,  who  had  lived  occasionally 
upon  town,  and  become  initiated  into  the  Fancy.  They  voted 
study  to  be  the  toil  of  dull  minds,  by  which  they  slowly  crept  up 
the  hill,  while  genius  arrived  at  it  at  a  bound.  I  felt  ashamed  to 
play  the  owl  among  such  gay  birds  ;  so  I  threw  by  my  books,  and 
became  a  man  of  spirit. 

As  my  father  made  me  a  tolerable  allowance,  notwithstanding 
the  narrowness  of  his  income,  having  an  eye  always  to  my  great 
expectations,  I  was  enabled  to  appear  to  advantage  among  my 
companions.  I  cultivated  all  kinds  of  sport  and  exercises.  I 
was  one  of  the  most  expert  oarsmen  that  rowed  on  the  Isis.  I 
boxed,  fenced,  angled,  shot,  and  hunted,  and  my  rooms  in  college 
were  always  decorated  with  whips  of  all  kinds,  spurs,  fowling- 


BUCKTHORNE.  205 


pieces,  fishing-rods,  foils,  and  boxing-gloves.  A  pair  of  leather 
breeches  would  seem  to  be  throwing  one  %g  out  of  the  half-open 
drawers,  and  empty  bottles  lumbered  the  bottom  of  every  closet. 

My  father  came  to  see  me  at  college  when  I  was  in  the  height 
of  my  career.  He  asked  me  how  I  came  on  with  my  studies, 
and  what  kind  of  hunting  there  was  in  the  neighborhood.  He 
examined  my  various  sporting  apparatus  with  a  curious  eye ; 
wanted  to  know  if  any  of  the  professors  were  fox-hunters,  and 
whether  they  were  generally  good  shots,  for  he  suspected  their 
studying  so  much  must  be  hurtful  to  the  sight.  We  had  a  day's 
shooting  together :  I  delighted  him  with  my  skill,  and  astonished 
him  by  my  learned  disquisitions  on  horse-flesh,  and  on  Manton's 
guns  ;  so,  upon  the  whole,  he  departed  highly  satisfied  with  my 
improvement  at  college. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  I  cannot  be  idle  long  without 
getting  in  love.  I  had  not  been  a  very  long  time  a  man  of  spirit, 
therefore,  before  I  became  deeply  enamoured  of  a  shopkeeper's 
daughter  in  the  High-street,  who,  in  fact,  was  the  admiration  of 
many  of  the  students.  I  wrote  several  sonnets  in  praise  of  her, 
and  spent  half  of  my  pocket  money  at  the  shop,  in  buying  arti 
cles  which  I  did  not  want,  that  I  might  have  an  opportunity  'of 
speaking  to  her.  Her  father,  a  severe-looking  old  gentleman, 
with  bright  silver  buckles,  and  a  crisp-curled  wig,  kept  a  strict 
guard  on  her,  as  the  fathers  generally  do  upon  their  daughters  in 
Oxford,  and  well  they  may.  I  tried  to  get  into  his  good  graces, 
and  to  be  sociable  with  him,  but  all  in  vain.  I  said  several  good 
things  in  his  shop,  but  he  never  laughed  :  he  had  no  relish  for  wit 
and  humor.  He  was  one  of  those  dry  old  gentlemen  who  keep 
youngsters  at  bay.  He  had  already  brought  up  two  or  three 
daughters,  and  was  experienced  in  the  ways  of  students.  He 


206  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


was  as  knowing  and  wary  as  a  gray  old  badger  that  has  often 
been  hunted.  To  see  him  on  Sunday,  so  stiff  and  starched  in  his 
demeanor,  so  precise  in  his  dress,  with  his  daughter  under 
his  arm,  was  enough  to  deter  all  graceless  youngsters  from  ap 
proaching. 

I  managed,  however,  in  spite  of  his  vigilance,  to  have  several 
conversations  with  the  daughter,  as  I  cheapened  articles  in  the 
shop.  I  made  terrible  long  bargains,  and  examined  the  articles 
over  and  over  before  I  purchased.  In  the  mean  time,  I  would 
convey  a  sonnet  or  an  acrostic  under  cover  of  a  piece  of  cambric, 
or  slipped  into  a  pair  of  stockings  ;  I  would  whisper  soft  nonsense 
into  her  ear  as  I  haggled  about  the  price  ;  and  would  squeeze  her 
hand  tenderly  as  I  received  my  half-pence  of  change  in  a  bit  of 
whity-brown  paper.  Let  this  serve  as  a  hint  to  all  haberdashers 
who  have  pretty  daughters  for  shop-girls,  and  young  students  for 
customers.  I  do  not  know  whether  my  words  and  looks  were 
very  eloquent,  but  my  poetry  was  irresistible ;  for,  to  tell  the 
truth,  the  girl  had  some  literary  taste,  and  was  seldom  without  a 
book  from  the  circulating  library. 

By  the  divine  power  of  poetry,  therefore,  which  is  so  potent 
with  the  lovely  sex,  did  I  subdue  the  heart  of  this  fair  little  hab 
erdasher.  We  carried  on  a  sentimental  correspondence  for  a 
time  across  the  counter,  and  I  supplied  her  with  rhyme  by  the 
stockingfull.  At  length  I  prevailed  on  her  to  grant  an  assigna 
tion.  But  how  was  this  to  be  effected  ?  Her  father  kept  her 
always  under  his  eye ;  she  never  walked  out  alone ;  and  the 
house  was  locked  up  the  moment  that  the  shop  was  shut.  All 
these  difficulties  served  but  to  give  zest  to  the  adventure.  I  pro 
posed  that  the  assignation  should  be  in  her  own  chamber,  into 
which  I  would  climb  at  night.  The  plan  was  irresistible. — A 


BUCKTHORNE.  207 


cruel  father,  a  secret  lover,  and  a  clandestine  meeting  !  All  the 
little  girl's  studies  from  the  circulating  library  seemed  about  to 
be  realized. 

But  what  had  I  in  view  in  making  this  assignation  ?  Indeed, 
I  know  not.  I  had  no  evil  intentions,  nor  can  I  say  that  I  had 
any  good  ones.  I  liked  the  girl,  and  wanted  to  have  an  opportu 
nity  of  seeing  more  of  her ;  and  the  assignation  was  made,  as  I 
have  done  many  things  else,  heedlessly  and  without  forethought. 
I  asked  myself  a  few  questions  of  the  kind,  after  all  my  arrange 
ments  were  made,  but  the  answers  were  very  unsatisfactory. 
"Am  I  to  ruin  this  poor  thoughtless  girl?"  said  I  to  myself. 
"  No  !"  was  the  prompt  and  indignant  answer.  "  Am  I  to  run 
away  with  her  ?" — "  Whither,  and  to  what  purpose  ?" — "  Well, 
then,  am  I  to  marry  her  ?" — "  Poh  !  a  man  of  my  expectations 
marry  a  shopkeeper's  daughter  ?"  "  What  then  am  I  to  do  with 
her  ?"  "  Hum — why — let  me  get  into  the  chamber  first,  and  then 
consider" —  and  so  the  self-examination  ended. 

Well,  sir,  "  come  what  come  might,"  I  stole  under  cover  of 
the  darkness  to  the  dwelling  of  my  dulcinea.  All  was  quiet.  At 
the  concerted  signal  her  window  was  gently  opened.  It  was  just 
above  the  projecting  bow-window  of  her  father's  shop,  which  as 
sisted  me  in  mounting.  The  house  was  low,  and  I  was  enabled 
to  scale  the  fortress  with  tolerable  ease.  I  clambered  with  a 
beating  heart ;  I  reached  the  casement ;  I  hoisted  my  body  half 
into  the  chamber ;  and  was  welcomed,  not  by  the  embraces  of 
my  expecting  fair  one,  but  by  the  grasp  of  the  crabbed-looking 
old  father  in  the  crisp-curled  wig. 

I  extricated  myself  from  his  clutches,  and  endeavored  to  make 
my  retreat ;  but  I  was  confounded  by  his  cries  of  thieves !  and 
robbers !  I  was  bothered  too  by  his  Sunday  cane,  which  was 


208  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


amazingly  busy  about  my  head  as  I  descended,  and  against  which 
my  hat  was  but  a  poor  protection.  Never  before  had  I  an  idea 
of  the  activity  of  an  old  man's  arm,  and  the  hardness  of  the  knob 
of  an  ivory-headed  cane.  In  my  hurry  and  confusion  I  missed 
my  footing,  and  fell  sprawling  on  the  pavement.  I  was  immedi 
ately  surrounded  by  myrmidons,  who,  I  doubt  not,  were  on  the 
watch  for  me.  Indeed,  I  was  in- no  situation  to  escape,  for  I  had 
sprained  my  ankle  in  the  fall,  and  could  not  stand.  I  was  seized 
as  a  housebreaker ;  and  to  exonerate  myself  of  a  greater  crime, 
I  had  to  accuse  myself  of  a  less.  I  made  known  who  I  was,  and 
why  I  came  there.  Alas  !  the  varlets  knew  it  already,  and  were 
only  amusing  themselves  at  my  expense.  My  perfidious  muse 
had  been  playing  me  one  of  her  slippery  tricks.  The  old  cur 
mudgeon  of  a  father  had  found  my  sonnets  and  acrostics  hid 
away  in  holes  and  corners  of  his  shop  ;  he  had  no  taste  for  poetry 
like  his  daughter,  and  had  instituted  a  rigorous  though  silent  ob 
servation.  He  had  moused  upon  our  letters,  detected  our  plans, 
and  prepared  every  thing  for  my  reception.  Thus  was  I  ever 
doomed  to  be  led  into  scrapes  by  the  muse.  Let  no  man  hence 
forth  carry  on  a  secret  amour  in  poetry  ! 

The  old  man's  ire  was  in  some  measure  appeased  by  the 
pommeling  of  my  head  and  the  anguish  of  my  sprain ;  so  he  did 
not  put  me  to  death  on  the  spot.  He  was  even  humane  enough 
to  furnish  a  shutter,  on  which  I  was  carried  back  to  college 
like  a  wounded  warrior.  The  porter  was  roused  to  admit  me. 
The  college  gate  was  thrown  open  for  my  entry.  The  affair  was 
blazed  about  the  next  morning,  and  became  the  joke  of  the  col 
lege  from  the  buttery  to  the  hall. 

I  had  leisure  to  repent  during  several  weeks'  confinement  by 
my  sprain,  which  I  passed  in  translating  Boethius's  Consolations 


BUGKTHORNE,  209 


of  Philosophy.  I  received  a  most  tender  and  ill-spelled  letter 
from  my  mistress,  who  had  been  sent  to  a  relation  in  Coventry. 
She  protested  her  innocence  of  my  misfortune,  and  vowed  to  be 
true  to  me  "  till  deth."  I  took  no  notice  of  the  letter,  for  I  was 
cured,  for  the  present,  both  of  love  and  poetry.  Women,  how 
ever,  are  more  constant  in  their  attachments  than  men,  whatever 
philosophers  may  say  to  the  contrary.  I  am  assured  that  she 
actually  remained  faithful  to  her  vow  for  several  months ;  but  she 
had  to  deal  with  a  cruel  father,  whose  heart  was  as  hard  as  the 
knob  of  his  cane.  He  was  not  to  be  touched  by  tears  nor  poetry, 
but  absolutely  compelled  her  to  marry  a  reputable  young  trades 
man,  who  made  her  a  happy  woman  in  spite  of  herself,  and  of  all 
the  rules  of  romance ;  and  what  is  more,  the  mother  of  several 
children.  They  are  at  this  very  day  a  thriving  couple,  and  keep 
a  snug  corner  shop,  just  opposite  the  figure  of  Peeping  Tom,  at 
Coventry. 

I  will  not  fatigue  you  by  any  more  details  of  my  studies  at 
Oxford ;  though  they  were  not  always  as  severe  as  these,  nor  did 
I  always  pay  as  dear  for  my  lessons.  To  be  brief,  then,  I  lived 
on  in  my  usual  miscellaneous  manner,  gradually  getting  know 
ledge  of  good  and  evil,  until  I  had  attained  my  twenty-first  year.  I 
had  scarcely  come  of  age  when  I  heard  of  the  sudden  death  of  my 
father.  The  shock  was  severe,  for  though  he  had  never  treated 
me  with  much  kindness,  still  he  was  my  father,  and  at  his  death, 
I  felt  alone  in  the  world. 

I  returned  home,  and  found  myself  the  solitary  master  of  the  pa 
ternal  mansion.  A  crowd  of  gloomy  feelings  came  thronging  upon 
me.  It  was  a  place  that  always  sobered  me,  and  brought  me  to 
reflection ;  now  especially,  it  looked  so  deserted  and  melancholy. 


210  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


I  entered  the  little  breakfasting-room.  There  were  my  father's 
whip  and  spurs,  hanging  by  the  fireplace ;  the  Stud-Book, 
Sporting  Magazine,  and  Racing  Calendar,  his  only  reading. 
His  favorite  spaniel  lay  on  the  hearth-rug.  The  poor  animal, 
who  had  never  before  noticed  me,  now  came  fondling  about  me, 
licked  my  hand,  then  looked  round  the  room,  whined,  wagged  his 
tail  slightly,  and  gazed  wistfully  in  my  face.  I  felt  the  full  force 
of  the  appeal.  "  Poor  Dash,"  said  I,  "  we  are  both  alone  in  the 
world,  with  nobody  to  care  for  us,  and  will  take  care  of  one 
another." — The  dog  never  quitted  me  afterwards. 

I  could  not  go  into  my  mother's  room — my  heart  swelled  when 
I  passed  within  sight  of  the  door.  Her  portrait  hung  in  the  par 
lor,  just  over  the  place  where  she  used  to  sit.  As  I  cast  my  eyes 
on  it,  I  thought  it  looked  at  me  with  tenderness,  and  I  burst  into 
tears.  I  was  a  careless  dog,  it  is  true,  hardened  a  little,  perhaps, 
by  living  in  public  schools,  and  buffeting  about  among  strangers, 
who  cared  nothing  for  me;  but  the  recollection  of  a  mother's 
tenderness  was  overcoming. 

I  was  not  of  an  age  or  a  temperament  to  be  long  depressed. 
There  was  a  reaction  in  my  system,  that  always  brought  me  up 
again  after  every  pressure  ;  and,  indeed,  my  spirits  were  most 
buoyant  after  a  temporary  prostration.  I  settled  the  concerns  of 
the  estate  as  soon  as  possible ;  realized  my  property,  which  was 
not  very  considerable,  but  which  appeared  a  vast  deal  to  me, 
having  a  poetical  eye,  that  magnified  every  thing ;  and  finding 
myself,  at  the  end  of  a  few  months,  free  of  all  further  business 
or  restraint,  I  determined  to  go  to  London  and  enjoy  myself. 
Why  should  I  not  ? — I  was  young,  animated,  joyous  ;  had  plenty 
of  funds  for  present  pleasures,  and  my  uncle's  estate  in  the 


BUCKTHORNE.  211 


perspective.  Let  those  mope  at  college,  and  pore  over  books, 
thought  I,  who  have  their  way  to  make  in  the  world ;  it  would  be 
ridiculous  drudgery  in  a  youth  of  my  expectations. 

Away  to  London,  therefore,  I  rattled  in  a  tandem,  determined 
to  take  the  town  gayly.  I  passed  through  several  of  the  villages 
where  I  had  played  the  Jack  Pudding  a  few  years  before ;  and  I 
visited  the  scenes  of  many  of  my  adventures  and  follies,  merely 
from  that  feeling  of  melancholy  pleasure  which  we  have  in  step 
ping  again  the  footprints  of  foregone  existence,  even  when  they 
have  passed  among  weeds  and  briers.  I  made  a  circuit  in  the 
latter  part  of  my  journey,  so  as  to  take  in  West  End  and  Hamp- 
stead,  the  scenes  of  my  last  dramatic  exploit,  and  of  the  battle 
royal  of  the  booth.  As  I  drove  along  the  ridge  of  Hampstead 
Hill,  by  Jack  Straw's  Castle,  I  paused  at  the  spot  where  Colum 
bine  and  I  had  sat  down  so  disconsolately  in  our  ragged  finery, 
and  had  looked  dubiously  on  London.  I  almost  expected  to  see 
her  again,  standing  on  the  hill's  brink,  "  like  Niobe,  all  tears  ;" — 
mournful  as  Babylon  in  ruins  ! 

"  Poor  Columbine  !"  said  I,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  thou  wert  a 
gallant,  generous  girl — a  true  woman ;  faithful  to  the  distressed, 
and  ready  to  sacrifice  thyself  in  the  cause  of  worthless  man !" 

I  tried  to  whistle  off  the  recollection  of  her,  for  there  was 
always  something  of  self-reproach  with  it.  I  drove  gayly  along 
the  road,  enjoying  the  stare  of  hostlers  and  stable-boys,  as  I 
managed  my  horses  knowingly  down  the  steep  street  of  Hamp 
stead  ;  when,  just  at  the  skirts  of  the  village,  one  of  the  traces 
of  my  leader  came  loose.  I  pulled  up,  and  as  the  anknal  was 
restive,  and  my  servant  a  bungler,  I  called  for  assistance  to  the 
robustious  master  of  a  snug  ale-house,  who  stood  at  his  door  with 
a  tankard  in  his  hand.  He  came  readily  to  assist  me,  followed  by 


212  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


his  wife,  with  her  bosom  half  open,  a  child  in  her  arms,  and  two 
more  at  her  heels.  T  stared  for  a  moment,  as  if  doubting  my 
eyes.  I  could  not  be  mistaken ;  in  the  fat,  beer-blown  landlord 
of  the  ale-house,  I  recollected  my  old  rival  Harlequin,  and  in  his 
slattern  spouse,  the  once  trim  and  dimpling  Columbine. 

The  change  of  my  looks  from  youth  to  manhood,  and  the 
change  in  my  circumstances,  prevented  them  from  recognizing 
me.  They  could  not  suspect  in  the  dashing  young  buck,  fash 
ionably  dressed  and  driving  his  own  equipage,  the  painted  beau, 
with  old  peaked  hat,  and  long,  flimsy,  sky-blue  coat.  My  heart 
yearned  with  kindness  towards  Columbine,  and  I  was  glad  to  see 
her  establishment  a  thriving  one.  As  soon  as  the  harness  was 
adjusted,  I  tossed  a  small  purse  of  gold  into  her  ample  bosom ; 
and  then,  pretending  to  give  my  horses  a  hearty  cut  of  the  whip, 
I  made  the  lash  curl  with  a  whistling  about  the  sleek  sides  of 
ancient  Harlequin.  The  horses  dashed  off  like  lightning,  and  I 
was  whirled  out  of  sight  before  either  of  the  parties  could  get  over 
their  surprise  at  my  liberal  donations.  I  have  always  considered 
this  as  one  of  the  greatest  proofs  of  my  poetical  genius ;  it  was 
distributing  poetical  justice  in  perfection. 

I  now  entered  London  en  cavalier,  and  became  a  blood  upon 
town.  I  took  fashionable  lodgings,  in  the  West  End ;  employed 
the  first  tailor  ;  frequented  the  regular  lounges  ;  gambled  a  little  ; 
lost  my  money  good-humoredly,  and  gained  a  number  of  fashiona 
ble,  good-for-nothing  acquaintances.  I  gained  some  reputation 
also  for  a  man  of  science,  having  become  an  expert  boxer  in  the 
course  of  my  studies  at  Oxford.  I  was  distinguished,  therefore, 
among  the  gentlemen  of  the  Fancy;  became  hand  and  glove  with 
certain  boxing  noblemen,  arid  was  the  admiration  of  the  Fires 
Court.  A  gentleman's  science,  however,  is  apt  to  get  him  into 


BUCKTHORNE.  213 


sad  scrapes ;  he  is  too  prone  to  play  the  knight-errant,  and  to 
pick  up  quarrels  which  less  scientific  gentlemen  would  quietly 
avoid.  I  undertook  one  day  to  punish  the  insolence  of  a  porter. 
lie  was  a  Hercules  of  a  fellow,  but  then  I  was  so  secure  in  my 
science  !  I  gained  the  victory  of  course.  The  porter  pocketed 
his  humiliation,  bound  up  his  broken  head,  and  went  about  his 
business  as  unconcernedly  as  though  nothing  had  happened  ; 
while  I  went  to  bed  with  my  victory,  and  did  not  dare  to  show  my 
battered  face  for  a  fortnight :  by  which  I  discovered  that  a  gen 
tleman  may  have  the  worst  of  the  battle  even  when  victorious. 

I  am  naturally  a  philosopher,  and  no  one  can  moralize  better 
after  a  misfortune  has  taken  place  ;  so  I  lay  on  my  bed  and 
moralized  on  this  sorry  ambition,  which  levels  the  gentleman  with 
the  clown,  I  know  it  is  the  opinion  of  many  sages,  who  have 
thought  deeply  on  these  matters,  that  the  noble  science  of  boxing 
keeps  up  the  bull-dog  courage  of  the  nation ;  and  far  be  it  from 
me  to  decry  the  advantage  of  becoming  a  nation  of  bull-dogs ; 
but  I  now  saw  clearly  that  it  was  calculated  to  keep  up  the  breed 
of  English  ruffians.  "  What  is  the  Fives  Court,"  said  I  to  my 
self,  as  J  turned  uncomfortably  in  bed,  "  but  a  college  of  scoun- 
drelism,  where  every  bully-ruffian  in  the  land  may  gain  a  fellow 
ship  ?  What  is  the  slang  language  of  the  Fancy  but  a  jargon  by 
which  fools  and  knaves  commune  and  understand  each  other,  and 
enjoy  a  kind  of  superiority  over  the  uninitiated  ?  What  is  a  box 
ing  match  but  an  arena,  where  the  noble  and  the  illustrious  are 
jostled  into  familiarity  with  the  infamous  and  the  vulgar?  What, 
in  fact,  is  the  Fancy  itself,  but  a  chain  of  easy  communication, 
extending  from  the  peer  down  to  the  pickpocket,  through  the 
medium  of  which  a  man  of  rank  may  find  he  has  shaken  hands, 
at  three  removes,  with  the  murderer  on  the  gibbet  ? — 


214  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


"  Enough  !"  ejaculated  I,  thoroughly  convinced  through  the 
force  of  my  philosophy,  and  the  pain  of  my  bruises — "  I'll  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  the  Fancy."  So  when  I  had  recovered 
from  my  victory,  I  turned  my  attention  to  softer  themes,  and  be 
came  a  devoted  admirer  of  the  ladies.  Had  I  had  more  industry 
and  ambition  in  my  nature,  I  might  have  worked  my  way  to  the 
very  height  of  fashion,  as  I  saw  many  laborious  gentlemen  doing 
around  me.  But  it  is  a  toilsome,  an  anxious,  and  an  unhappy 
life ;  there  are  few  beings  so  sleepless  and  miserable  as  your 
cultivators  of  fashionable  smiles.  I  was  quite  content  with  that 
kind  of  society  which  forms  the  frontiers  of  fashion,  and  may  be 
easily  taken  possession  of.  I  found  it  a  light,  easy,  productive 
soil.  I  had  but  to  go  about  and  sow  visiting  cards,  and  I  reaped 
a  whole  harvest  of  invitations.  Indeed,  my  figure  and  address 
were  by  no  means  against  me.  It  was  whispered,  too,  among  the 
young  ladies,  that  I  was  prodigiously  clever,  and  wrote  poetry  ; 
and  the  old  ladies  had  ascertained  that  I  was  a  young  gentle 
man  of  good  family,  handsome  fortune,  and  "great  expecta 
tions." 

I  now  was  carried  away  by  the  hurry  of  gay  life,  so-  intoxi 
cating  to  a  young  man,  and  which  a  man  of  poetical  temperament 
enjoys  so  highly  on  his  first  tasting  of  it ;  that  rapid  variety  of 
sensations ;  that  whirl  of  brilliant  objects ;  that  succession  of 
pungent  pleasures  !  I  had  no  time  for  thought.  I  only  felt.  I 
never  attempted  to  write  poetry ;  my  poetry  seemed  all  to  go  off 
by  transpiration.  I  lived  poetry ;  it  was  all  a  poetical  dream  to 
me.  A  mere  sensualist  knows  nothing  of  the  delights  of  a  splen 
did  metropolis.  He  lives  in  a  round  of  animal  gratifications  and 
heartless  habits.  But  to  a  young  man  of  poetical  feelings,  it  is 
an  ideal  world,  a  scene  of  enchantment  and  delusion  ;  his  imagi- 


BUCKTHORNE.  215 


nation  is  in  perpetual  excitement,  and  gives  a  spiritual  zest  to 
every  pleasure. 

A  season  of  town-life,  however,  somewhat  sobered  me  of  my 
intoxication  ;  or  rather  I  was  rendered  more  serious  by  one  of  my 
old  complaints — I  fell  in  love.  It  was  with  a  very  pretty,  though 
a  very  haughty  fair  one,  who  had  come  to  London  under  the  care 
of  an  old  maiden  aunt  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  a  winter  in  town, 
and  to  get  married.  There  was  not  a  doubt  of  her  commanding 
a  choice  of  lovers  ;  for  she  had  long  been  the  belle  of  a  little  ca 
thedral  city,  and  one  of  the  posts  of  the  place  had  absolutely 
celebrated  her  beauty  in  a  copy  of  Latin  verses.  The  most  ex 
travagant  anticipations  were  formed  by  her  friends  of  the  sensa 
tion  she  would  produce.  It  was  feared  by  some  that  she  might 
be  precipitate  in  her  choice,  and  take  up  with  some  inferior  title. 
The  aunt  was  determined  nothing  should  gain  her  under  a  lord. 

Alas !  with  all  her  charms,  the  young  lady  lacked  the  one 
thing  needful — she  had  no  money.  So  she  waited  in  vain  for 
duke,  marquis,  or  earl,  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet.  As  the 
season  waned,  so  did  the  lady's  expectations  ;  when,  just  towards 
the  close,  I  made  my  advances. 

I  was  most  favorably  received  by  both  the  young  lady  and 
her  aunt.  It  is  true,  I  had  no  title ;  but  then  such  great  expec 
tations  !  A  marked  preference  was  immediately  shown  me  over 
two  rivals,  the  younger  son  of  a  needy  baronet,  and  a  captain  of 
dragoons  on  half-pay.  I  did  not  absolutely  take  the  field  in  form, 
for  I  was  determined  not  to  be  precipitate  ;  but  I  drove  my  equi 
page  frequently  through  the  street  in  which  she  lived,  and  was 
always  sure  to  see  her  at  the  window,  generally  with  a  book  in 
her  hand.  I  resumed  my  knack  at  rhyming,  and  sent  her  a  long 
copy  of  verses  j  anonymously,  to  be  sure,  but  she  knew  rrr  Land- 


216  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


writing.  Both  aunt  and  niece,  however,  displayed  the  most 
delightful  ignorance  on  the  subject.  The  young  lady  showed 
them  to  me  ;  wondered  who  they  could  be  Written  by ;  and  de 
clared  there  was  nothing  in  this  world  she  loved  so  much  as 
poetry  ;  while  the  maiden  aunt  would  put  her  pinching  spectacles 
on  her  nose,  and  read  them,  with  blunders  in  sense  and  sound, 
excruciating  to  an  author's  ears  ;  protesting  there  was  nothing 
equal  to  them  in  the  whole  Elegant  Extracts. 

The  fashionable  season  closed  without  my  adventuring  to  make 
a  declaration,  though  I  certainly  had  encouragement.  I  was  not 
perfectly  sure  that  I  had  effected  a  lodgment  in  the  young  lady's 
heart ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  aunt  overdid  her  part,  and  was  a 
little  too  extravagant  in  her  liking  of  me.  I  knew  that  maiden 
aunts  were  not  apt  to  be  captivated  by  the  mere  personal  merits 
of  their  nieces' admirers  ;  and  I  wanted  to  ascertain  how  much 
of  all  this  favor  I  owed  to  driving  an  equipage,  and  having  great 
expectations. 

I  had  received  many  hints  how  charming  their  native  place 
was  during  the  summer  months  ;  what  pleasant  society  they  had  ; 
and  what  beautiful  drives  about  the  neighborhood.  They  had  not, 
therefore,  returned  home  long,  before  I  made  my  appearance  in 
dashing  style,  driving  down  the  principal  street.  The  very  next 
morning  I  was  seen  at  prayers,  seated  in  the  same  pew  with  the 
reigning  belle.  Questions  were  whispered  about  the  aisles,  after 
service,  "  Who  is  he  ?"  and  "  What  is  he  ?"  And  the  replies 
were  as  usual,  "  A  young  gentleman  of  good  family  and  fortune, 
and  great  expectations." 

I  was  much  struck  with  the  peculiarities  of  this  reverend  little 
place.  A  cathedral,  with  its  dependencies  and  regulations,  pre 
sents  a  picture  of  other  times,  and  of  a  different  order  of  things. 


BUCKTHORNE.  217 


It  is  a  rich  relic  of  a  more  poetical  age.  There  still  linger  about 
it  the  silence  and  solemnity  of  the  cloister.  In  the  present  in 
stance  especially,  where  the  cathedral  was  large,  and  the  town 
small,  its  influence  was  the  more  apparent.  The  solemn  pomp  of 
the  service,  performed  twice  a  day,  with  the  grand  intonations  of 
the  organ,  and  the  voices  of  the  choir  swelling  through  the  mag 
nificent  pile,  diffused,  as  it  were,  a  perpetual  Sabbath  over  the 
place.  This  routine  of  solemn  ceremony  continually  going  on, 
independent,  as  it  were,  of  the  world ;  this  daily  offering  of  mel 
ody  and  praise,  ascending  like  incense  from  the  altar,  had  a 
powerful  effect  upon  my  imagination. 

The  aunt  introduced  me  to  her  coterie,  formed  of  families 
connected  with  the  cathedral,  and  others  of  moderate  fortune,  but 
high  respectability,  who  had  nestled  themselves  under  the  wings 
of  the  cathedral  to  enjoy  good  society  at  moderate  expense.  It 
was  a  highly  aristocratical  little  circle  ;  scrupulous  in  its  inter 
course  with  others,  and  jealously  cautious  about  admitting  any 
thing  common  or  unclean. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  courtesies  of  the  old  school  had  taken 
refuge  here.  There  were  continual  interchanges  of  civilities,  and 
of  small  presents  of  fruits  and  delicacies,  and  of  complimentary 
crow-quill  billets  ;  for  in  a  quiet,  well-bred  community  like  this, 
living  entirely  at  ease,  little  duties,  and  little  amusements,  and 
little  civilities,  fill  up  the  day.  I  have  seen,  in  the  midst  of  a 
warm  day,  a  corpulent,  powdered  footman,  issuing  from  the  iron 
gateway  of  a  stately  mansion,  and  traversing  the  little  place  with 
an  air  of  mighty  import,  bearing  a  small  tart  on  a  large  silver  salver. 

Their  evening  amusements  were  sober  and  primitive.  They 
assembled  at  a  moderate  hour ;  the  young  ladies  played  music, 
and  the  old  ladies  whist ;  and  at  an  early  hour  they  dispersed. 

10 


218  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


There  was  no  parade  on  these  social  occasions.  Two  or  three 
old  sedan  chairs  were  in  constant  activity,  though  the  greater  part 
made  their  exit  in  clogs  and  pattens,  with  a  footman  or  waiting- 
maid  carrying  a  lantern  in  advance ;  and  long  before  midnight 
the  clank  of  pattens  and  gleam  of  lanterns  about  the  quiet  little 
place  told  that  the  evening  party  had  dissolved. 

Still  I  did  not  feel  myself  altogether  so  much  at  my  ease  as 
I  had  anticipated,  considering  the  smallness  of  the  place.  I  found 
it  very  different  from  other  country  places,  and  that  it  was  not  so 
easy  to  make  a  dash  there.  Sinner  that  I  was  !  the  very  dignity 
and  decorum  of  the  little  community  was  rebuking  to  me.  I 
feared  my  past  idleness  and  folly  would  rise  in  judgment  against 
me.  I  stood  in  awe  of  the  dignitaries  of  the  cathedral,  whom  I 
saw  mingling  familiarly  in  society.  I  became  nervous  on  this 
point.  The  creak  of  a  prebendary's  shoes  sounding  from  one 
end  of  a  quiet  street  to  the  other,  was  appalling  to  me  ;  and  the 
sight  of  a  shovel  hat  was  sufficient  at  any  time  to  check  me  in 
the  midst  of  my  boldest  poetical  soarings. 

And  then  the  good  aunt  could  not  be  quiet,  but  would  cry  me 
up  for  a  genius,  and  extol  my  poetry  to  every  one.  So  long  as 
she  confined  this  to  the  ladies  it  did  well  enough,  because  they  were 
able  to  feel  and  appreciate  poetry  of  the  new  romantic  school. 
Nothing  would  content  the  good  lady,  however,  but  she  must  read 
my  verses  to  a  prebendary,  who  had  long  been  the  undoubted 
critic  of  the  place.  He  was  a  thin,  delicate  old  gentleman,  of 
mild,  polished  manners,  steeped  to  the  lips  in  classic  lore,  and  not 
easily  put  in  a  heat  by  any  hot-blooded  poetry  of  the  day.  He 
listened  to  my  most  fervid  thoughts  and  fervid  words  without  a 
glow ;  shook  his  head  with  a  smile,  and  condemned  them  as  not 
being  according  to  Horace,  as  not  being  legitimate  poetry. 


BUCKTHORNE.  219 


Several  old  ladies,  who  had  heretofore  been  my  admirers, 
shook  their  heads  at  hearing  this  ;  they  could  not  think  of  prais 
ing  any  poetry  that  was  not  according  to  Horace  ;  and  as  to  any 
thing  illegitimate,  it  was  not  to  be  countenanced  in  good  society. 
Thanks  to  my  stars,  however,  I  had  youth  and  novelty  on  my 
side  :  so  the  young  ladies  persisted  in  admiring  my  poetry  in  des 
pite  of  Horace  and  illegitimacy. 

I  consoled  myself  with  the  good  opinion  of  the  young  ladies, 
whom  I  had  always  found  to  be  the  best  judges  of  poetry.  As 
to  these  old  scholars,  said  I,  they  are  apt  to  be  chilled  by  being 
steeped  in  the  cold  fountains  of  the  classics.  Still  I  felt  that  I 
was  losing  ground,  and  that  it  was  necessary  to  bring  matters  to 
a  point.  Just  at  this  time  there  was  a  public  ball,  attended  by 
the  best  society  of  the  place,  and  by  the  gentry  of  the  neighbor 
hood  :  I  took  great  pains  with  my  toilet  on  the  occasion,  and  I 
had  never  looked  better.  I  had  determined  that  -night  to  make 
my  grand  assault  on  the  heart  of  the  young  lady,  to  battle  it  with 
all  my  forces,  and  the  next  morning  to  demand  a  surrender  in 
due  form. 

I  entered  the  ballroom  amidst  a  buzz  and  flutter,  which  gen 
erally  took  place  among  the  young  ladies  on  my  appearance.  I 
was  in  fine  spirits  ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  exhilarated  myself 
by  a  cheerful  glass  of  wine  on  the  occasion.  I  talked,  and  rat 
tled,  and  said  a  thousand  silly  things,  slap-dash,  with  all  the  con 
fidence  of  a  man  sure  of  his  auditors, — and  every  thing  had  its 
effect. 

In  the  midst  of  my  triumph  I  observed  a  little  knot  gathering 
together  in  the  upper  part  of  the  room.  By  degrees  it  increased. 
A  tittering  broke  out  there,  and  glances  were  cast  round  at  me, 
and  then  there  would  be  fresh  tittering.  Some  of  the  young 


220  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


ladies  would  hurry  away  to  distant  parts  of  the  room,  and  whis 
per  to  their  friends.  Wherever  they  went,  there  was  still  this 
tittering  and  glancing  at  me.  I  did  not  know  what  to  make  of 
all  this.  I  looked  at  myself  from  head  to  foot,  and  peeped  at 
my  back  in  a  glass,  to  see  if  any  thing  was  odd  about  my  person ; 
any  awkward  exposure,  any  whimsical  tag  hanging  out : — no — 
every  thing  was  right — I  was  a  perfect  picture.  I  determined 
that  it  must  be  some  choice  saying  of  mine  that  was  bandied 
about  in  this  knot  of  merry  beauties,  and  I  determined  to  enjoy 
one  of  my  good  things  in  the  rebound.  I  stepped  gently,  there 
fore,  up  the  room,  smiling  at  every  one  as  I  passed,  who,  I  must 
say,  all  smiled  and  tittered  in  return.  I  approached  the  group, 
smirking  and  perking  my  chin,  like  a  man  who  is  full  of  pleasant 
feeling,  and  sure  of  being  well  received.  The  cluster  of  little 
belles  opened  as  I  advanced. 

Heavens  and  earth  !  whom  should  I  perceive  in  the  midst  of 
them  but  my  early  and  tormenting  flame,  the  everlasting  Sacha- 
rissa  !  She  was  grown,  it  is  true,  into  the  full  beauty  of  woman 
hood  ;  but  showed,  by  the  provoking  merriment  of  her  counten 
ance,  that  she  perfectly  recollected  me,  and  the  ridiculous  flagel 
lations  of  which  she  had  twice  been  the  cause. 

I  saw  at  once  the  exterminating  cloud  of  ridicule  bursting 
over  me.  My  crest  fell.  The  flame  of  love  went  suddenly  out, 
or  was  extinguished  by  overwhelming  shame.  How  I  got  down 
the  room  I  know  not :  I  fancied  every  one  tittering  at  me.  Just 
as  I  reached  the  door,  I  caught  a  glance  of  my  mistress  and  her 
aunt  listening  to  the  whispers  of  Sacharissa,  the  old  lady  raising 
her  hands  and  eyes,  and  the  face  of  the  young  one  lighted  up,  as 
I  imagined,  with  scorn  ineffable.  I  paused  to  see  no  more,  but 
made  two  steps  from  the  top  of  the  stairs  to  the  bottom.  The 


BUCKTHORNE.  221 


next  morning,  before  sunrise,  I  beat  a  retreat,  and  did  not  feel  the 
blushes  cool  from  my  tingling  cheeks,  until  I  had  lost  sight  of  the 
old  towers  of  the  cathedral. 

I  now  returned  to  town  thoughtful  and  crest-fallen.  My 
money  was  nearly  spent,  for  I  had  lived  freely  and  without  calcu 
lation.  The  dream  of  love  was  over,  and  the  reign  of  pleasure 
at  an  end.  I  determined  to  retrench  while  I  had  yet  a  trifle  left : 
so  selling  my  equipage  and  horses  for  half  their  value,  I  quietly 
put  the  money  in  my  pocket,  and  turned  pedestrian.  I  had  not  a 
doubt  that,  with  my  great  expectations,  I  could  at  any  time  raise 
funds,  either  on  usury  or  by  borrowing ;  but  I  was  principled 
against  both,  and  resolved  by  strict  economy,  to  make  my  slender 
purse  hold  out  until  my  uncle  should  give  up  the  ghost,  or  rather 
the  estate.  I  staid  at  home,  therefore,  and  read,  and  would  have 
written,  but  I  had  already  suffered  too  much  from  my  poetical 
productions,  which  had  generally  involved  me  in  some  ridiculous 
scrape.  I  gradually  acquired  a  rusty  look,  and  had  a  straitened 
money-borrowing  air,  upon  which  the  world  began  to  shy  me.  I 
have  never  felt  disposed  to  quarrel  with  the  world  for  its  conduct: 
it  has  always  used  me  well.  When  I  have  been  flush  and  gay, 
and  disposed  for  society,  it  has  caressed  me ;  and  when  I  have 
been  pinched  and  reduced,  and  wished  to  be  alone,  why,  it  has 
left  me  alone ;  and  what  more  could  a  man  desire  ?  Take  my 
word  for  it,  this  world  is  a  more  obliging  world  than  people  gen 
e-rally  represent  it. 

Well,  sir,  in  the  midst  of  my  retrenchment,  my  retirement, 
and  my  studiousness,  I  received  news  that  my  uncle  was  danger 
ously  ill.  I  hastened  on  the  wings  of  an  heir's  affections  to  re 
ceive  his  dying  breath  and  his  last  testament.  I  found  him  at 
tended  by  his  faithful  valet,  old  Iron  John ;  by  the  woman  who 


222  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


occasionally  worked  about  the  house,  and  by  the  foxy-headed  boy, 
young  Orson,  whom  I  had  occasionally  hunted  about  the  park. 
Iron  John  gasped  a  kind  of  asthmatical  salutation  as  I  entered 
the  room,  and  received  me  with  something  almost  like  a  smile  of 
welcome.  The  woman  sat  blubbering  at  the  foot  of  the  bed ;  and 
the  foxy-headed  Orson,  who  had  now  grown  up  to  be  a  lubberly 
lout,  stood  gazing  in  stupid  vacancy  at  a  distance. 

My  uncle  lay  stretched  upon  his  back.  The  chamber  was 
without  fire,  or  any  of  the  comforts  of  a  sick  room.  The  cob 
webs  flaunted  from  the  ceiling.  The  tester  was  covered  with 
dust,  and  the  curtains  were  tattered.  From  underneath  the  bed 
peeped  out  one  end  of  his  strong  box.  Against  the  wainscot 
were  suspended  rusty  blunderbusses,  horse-pistols,  and  a  cut-and- 
thrust  sword,  with  which  he  had  fortified  his  room  to  defend  his 
life  and  treasure.  He  had  employed  no  physician  during  his  ill 
ness  ;  and  from  the  scanty  relics  lying  on  the  table,  seemed  almost 
to  have  denied  to  himself  the  assistance  of  a  cook. 

When  I  entered  the  room,  he  was  lying  motionless ;  his  eyes 
fixed  and  his  mouth  open  :  at  the  first  look  I  thought  him  a 
corpse.  The  noise  of  my  entrance  made  him  turn  his  head.  At 
the  sight  of  me  a  ghastly  smile  came  over  his  face,  and  his 
glazing  eye  gleamed  with  satisfaction.  It  was  the  only  smile 
he  had  ever  given  me,  and  it  went  to  my  heart,  "Poor  old 
man ! "  thought  I,  "  why  should  you  force  me  to  leave  you  thus 
desolate,  when  I  see  that  my  presence  has  the  power  to  cheer  you  ?" 

"  Nephew,"  said  he,  after  several  efforts,  and  in  a  low  gasp 
ing  voice — "I  am  glad  you  are  come.  I  shall  now  die  with 
satisfaction.  Look,"  said  he,  raising  his  withered  hand,  and 
pointing — "  look  in  that  box  on  the  table :  you  will  find  that  I 
have  not  forgotten  you." 


BUCKTHORNS.  223 


I  pressed  his  hand  to  my  heart,  and  the  tears  stood  in  my 
eyes.  I  sat  down  by  his  bedside  and  watched  him,  but  he  never 
spoke  again.  My  presence,  however,  gave  him  evident  satisfac 
tion  ;  for  every  now  and  then,  as  he  looked  at  me,  a  vague  smile 
would  come  over  his  visage,  and  he  would  feebly  point  to  the 
sealed  box  on  the  table.  As  the  day  wore  away,  his  life  appeared 
to  wear  away  with  it.  Towards  sunset  his  hand  sank  on  the  bed, 
and  lay  motionless,  his  eyes  grew  glazed,  his  mouth  remained 
open,  and  thus  he  gradually  died. 

I  could  not  but  feel  shocked  at  this  absolute  extinction  of  my 
kindred.  I  dropped  a  tear  of  real  sorrow  over  this  strange  old 
man,  who  had  thus  reserved  the  smile  of  kindness  to  his  death 
bed  ;  like  an  evening  sun  after  a  gloomy  day,  just  shining  out  to 
set  in  darkness.  Leaving  the  corpse  in  charge  of  the  domestics, 
I  retired  for  the  night. 

It  was  a  rough  night.  The  winds  seemed  as  if  singing  my 
uncle's  requiem  about  the  mansion,  and  the  bloodhounds  howled 
without  as  if  they  knew  of  the  death  of  their  old  master.  Iron 
John  almost  grudged  me  the  tallow  candle  to  burn  in  my  apart 
ment,  and  light  up  its  dreariness,  so  accustomed  had  he  been  to 
starveling  economy.  I  could  not  sleep.  The  recollection  of  my 
uncle's  dying  scene,  and  the  dreary  sounds  about  the  house  affected 
my  mind.  These,  however,  were  succeeded  by  plans  for  the 
future,  and  I  lay  awake  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  indulging 
the  poetical  anticipation  how  soon  I  should  make  these  old  walls 
ring  with  cheerful  life,  and  restore  the  hospitality  of  my  mother's 
ancestors. 

My  uncle's  funeral  was  decent,  but  private.  I  knew  that  no 
body  respected  his  memory,  and  I  was  determined  none  should  be 
summoned  to  sneer  over  his  funeral,  and  make  merry  at  his  grave. 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


He  was  buried  in  the  church  of  the  neighboring  village,  though  it 
was  not  the  burying-place  of  his  race ;  but  he  had  expressly  en 
joined  that  he  should  not  be  buried  with  his  family  :  he  had  quar 
relled  with  most  of  them  when  living,  and  he  carried  his  resent 
ments  even  into  the  grave. 

I  defrayed  the  expenses  of  his  funeral  out  of  my  own  purse, 
that  I  might  have  done  with  the  undertakers  at  once,  and  clear 
the  ill-omened  birds  from  the  premises.  I  invited  the  parson  of 
the  parish,  and  the  lawyer  from  the  village,  to  attend  at  the  house 
the  next  morning,  and  hear  the  reading  of  the  will.  I  treated 
them  to  an  excellent  breakfast,  a  profusion  that  had  not  been 
seen  at  the  house  for  many  a  year.  As  soon  as  the  breakfast 
things  were  removed,  I  summoned  Iron  John,  the  woman,  and 
the  boy,  for  I  was  particular  in  having  every  one  present  and 
proceeding  regularly.  The  box  was  placed  on  the  table — all  was 
silence — I  broke  the  seal — raised  the  lid,  and  beheld — not  the  will 
— but  my  accursed  poem  of  Doubting  Castle  and  Giant  Despair ! 

Could  any  mortal  have  conceived  that  this  old  withered  man, 
so  taciturn,  and  apparently  so  lost  to  feeling,  could  have  treasured 
up  for  years  the  thoughtless  pleasantry  of  a  boy,  to  punish  him 
with  such  cruel  ingenuity  ?  I  now  could  account  for  his  dying 
smile,  the  only  one  he  had  ever  given  me.  He  had  been  a  grave 
man  all  his  life ;  it  was  strange  that  he  should  die  in  the  enjoy 
ment  of  a  joke,  and  it  was  hard  that  that  joke  should  be  at  my 
expense. 

The  lawyer  and  the  parson  seemed  at  a  loss  to  comprehend 
the  matter.  "Here  must  be  some  mistake,"  said  the  lawyer; 
"  there  is  no  will  here." 

"  Oh !"  said  Iron  John,  creaking  forth  his  rusty  jaws,  "  if  it 
is  a  will  you  are  looking  for,  I  believe  I  can  find  one." 


BUCKTHORNE.  225 


He  retired  with  the  same  singular  smile  with  which  he  had 
greeted  me  on  my  arrival,  and  which  I  now  apprehended  boded 
me  no  good.  In  a  little  while  he  returned  with  a  will  perfect  at 
all  points,  properly  signed  and  sealed,  and  witnessed  and  worded 
with  horrible  correctness ;  in  which  the  deceased  left  large  lega 
cies  to  Iron  John  and  his  daughter,  and  the  residue  of  his  fortune 
to  the  foxy-headed  boy ;  who,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  was  his 
son  by  this  very  woman ;  he  having  married  her  privately,  and, 
as  I  verily  believe,  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  have  an  heir, 
and  so  balk  my  father  and  his  issue  of  the  inheritance.  There 
was  one  little  proviso,  in  which  he  mentioned,  that,  having  dis 
covered  his  nephew  to  have  a  pretty  turn  for  poetry,  he  presumed 
he  had  no  occasion  for  wealth ;  he  recommended  him,  however,  to 
the  patronage  of  his  heir,  and  requested  that  he  might  have  a 
garret,  rent-free,  in  Doubting  Castle. 


10* 


GRAVE  REFLECTIONS  OF  A  DISAPPOINTED  MAN. 

ME.  BUCKTHORNE  had  paused  at  the  death  of  his  uncle,  and  the 
downfall  of  his  great  expectations,  which  formed,  as  he  said,  an 
epoch  in  his  history ;  and  it  was  not  until  some  little  time  after 
wards,  and  in  a  very  sober  mood,  that  he  resumed  his  party- 
colored  narrative. 

After  leaving  the  remains  of  my  defunct  uncle,  said  he,  when 
the  gate  closed  between  me  and  what  was  once  to  have  been 
mine,  I  felt  thrust  out  naked  into  the  world,  and  completely  aban 
doned  to  fortune.  What  was  to  become  of  me  ?  I  had  been 
brought  up  to  nothing  but  expectations,  and  they  had  all  been 
disappointed.  I  had  no  relations  to  look  to  for  counsel  or  assist 
ance.  The  world  seemed  all  to  have  died  away  from  me. 
Wave  after  wave  of  relationship  had  ebbed  off,  and  I  was  left  a 
mere  hulk  upon  the  strand.  I  am  not  apt  to  be  greatly  cast 
down,  but  at  this  time  I  felt  sadly  disheartened.  I  could  not  rea 
lize  my  situation,  nor  form  a  conjecture  how  I  was  to  get  forward. 
I  was  now  to  endeavor  to  make  money.  The  idea  was  new  and 
strange  to  me.  It  was  like  being  asked  to  discover  the  philoso 
pher's  stone.  I  had  never  thought  about  money  otherwise  than 
to  put  my  hand  into  my  pocket  and  find  it ;  or  if  there  were  none 
there,  to  wait  until  a  new  supply  came  from  home.  I  had  con 
sidered  life  as  a  mere  space  of  time  to  be  filled  up  with  enjoy- 


A  DISAPPOINTED   MAN.  227 


ments ;  but  to  have  it  portioned  out  into  long  hours  and  days  of 
toil,  merely  that  I  might  gain  bread  to  give  me  strength  to  toil 
on — to  labor  but  for  the  purpose  of  perpetuating  a  life  of  labor, 
was  new  and  appalling  to  me.  This  may  appear  a  very  simple 
matter  to  some  ;  but  it  will  be  understood  by  every  unlucky  wight 
in  my  predicament,  who  has  had  the  misfortune  of  being  born  to 
great  expectations. 

I  passed  several  days  in  rambling  about  the  scenes  of  my 
boyhood ;  partly  because  I  absolutely  did  not  know  what  to  do 
with  myself,  and  partly  because  I  did  not  know  that  I  should 
ever  see  them  again.  I  clung  to  them  as  one  clings  to  a  wreck, 
though  he  knows  he  must  eventually  cast  himself  loose  and  swim 
for  his  life.  I  sat  down  on  a  little  hill  within  sight  of  my  paternal 
home,  but  I  did  not  venture  to  approach  it,  for  I  felt  compunction 
at  the  thoughtlessness  with  which  I  had  dissipated  my  patrimony  ; 
yet  was  I  to  blame,  when  I  had  the  rich  possessions  of  my  cur 
mudgeon  of  an  uncle  in  expectation  ? 

The  new  possessor  of  the  place  was  making  great  alterations. 
The  house  was  almost  rebuilt.  The  trees  which  stood  about  it 
were  cut  down  ;  my  mother's  flower-garden  was  thrown  into  a 
lawn — all  was  undergoing  a  change.  I  turned  my  back  upon  it 
with  a  sigh,  and  rambled  to  another  part  of  the  country. 

How  thoughtful  a  little  adversity  makes  one !  As  I  came 
within  sight  of  the  schoolhouse  where  I  had  so  often  been  flogged 
in  the  cause  of  wisdom,  you  would  hardly  have  recognized  the 
truant  boy,  who,  but  a  few  years  since,  had  eloped  so  heedlessly 
from  its  walls.  I  leaned  over  the  paling  of  the  play-ground,  and 
watched  the  scholars  at  their  games,  and  looked  to  see  if  there 
might  not  be  some  urchin  among  them  like  I  was  once,  full  of 
gay  dreams  about  life  and  the  world.  The  play-ground  seemed 


TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


smaller  than  when  I  used  to  sport  about  it.  The  house  and  park, 
too,  of  the  neighboring  squire,  the  father  of  the  cruel  Sacharissa, 
had  shrunk  in  size  and  diminished  in  magnificence.  The  distant 
hills  no  longer  appeared  so  far  off,  and,  alas  !  no  longer  awakened 
ideas  of  a  fairy  land  beyond. 

As  I  was  rambling  pensively  through  a  neighboring  meadow, 
in  which  1  had  many  a  time  gathered  primroses,  I  met  the  very 
pedagogue  who  had  been  the  tyrant  and  dread  of  my  boyhood. 
I  had  sometimes  vowed  to  myself,  when  suffering  under  his  rod, 
that  I  would  have  my  revenge  if  ever  I  met  him  when  I  had  grown 
to  be  a  man.  The  time  had  come  ;  but  I  had  no  disposition  to  keep 
my  vow.  The  few  years  which  had  matured  me  into  a  vigorous 
man  had  shrunk  him  into  decrepitude.  He  appeared  to  have  had  a 
paralytic  stroke.  I  looked  at  him,  and  wondered  that  this  poor 
helpless  mortal  could  have  been  an  object  of  terror  to  me  ;  that  I 
should  have  watched  with  anxiety  the  glance  of  that  failing  eye,  or 
dreaded  the  power  of  that  trembling  hand.  He  tottered  feebly 
along  the  path,  and  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  over  a  stile.  I 
ran  and  assisted  him.  He  looked  at  me  with  surprise,  but  did 
not  recognize  me,  and  made  a  low  bow  of  humility  and  thanks. 
I  had  no  disposition  to  make  myself  known,  for  I  felt  that  I  had 
nothing  to  boast  of.  The  pains  he  had  taken,  and  the  pains  he 
had  inflicted,  had  been  equally  useless.  His  repeated  predictions 
were  fully  verified,  and  I  felt  that  little  Jack  Buckthorne,  the  idle 
boy,  had  grown  to  be  a  very  good-for-nothing  man. 

This  is  all  very  comfortless  detail ;  but  as  I  have  told  you  of 
my  follies,  it  is  meet  that  I  show  you  how  for  once  I  was  schooled 
for  them.  The  most  thoughtless  of  mortals  will  some  time  or 
other  have  his  day  of  gloom,  when  he  will  be  compelled  to  reflect. 

I  felt  on  this  occasion  as  if  I  had  a  kind  of  penance  to  per- 


A  DISAPPOINTED   MAN.  229 

form,  and  I  made  a  pilgrimage  in  expiation  of  my  past  levity. 
Having  passed  a  night  at  Leamington,  I  set  off  by  a  private  path, 
which  leads  up  a  hill  through  a  grove  and  across  quiet  fields,  till 
I  came  to  the  small  village,  or  rather  hamlet,  of  Lenington.  I 
sought  the  village  church.  It  is  an  old  low  edifice  of  gray  stone, 
on  the  brow  of  a  small  hill,  looking  over  fertile  fields,  towards 
where  the  proud  towers  of  Warwick  castle  lift  themselves  against 
the  distant  horizon. 

A  part  of  the  churchyard  is  shaded  by  large  trees.  Under 
one  of  them  my  mother  lay  buried.  You  have  no  doubt  thought 
me  a  light,  heartless  being.  I  thought  myself  so  ;  but  there  are 
moments  of  adversity  which  let  us  into  some  feelings  of  our 
nature  to  which  we  might  otherwise  remain  perpetual  strangers. 

I  sought  my  mother's  grave  ;  the  weeds  were  already  matted 
over  it,  and  the  tombstone  was  half  hid  among  nettles.  I 
cleared  them  away,  and  they  stung  my  hands  ;  but  I  was  heedless 
of  the  pain,  for  my  heart  ached  too  severely.  I  sat  down  on  the 
grave,  and  read  over  and  over  again  the  epitaph  on  the  stone. 

It  was  simple, — but  it  was  true.  I  had  written  it  myself.  I 
had  tried  to  write  a  poetical  epitaph,  but  in  vain ;  my  feelings 
refused  to  utter  themselves  in  rhyme.  My  heart  had  gradually 
been  filling  during  my  lonely  wanderings  ;  it  was  now  charged  to 
the  brim,  and  overflowed.  I  sank  upon  the  grave,  and  buried  my 
face  in  the  tall  grass,  and  wept  like  a  child.  Yes,  I  wept  in  man 
hood  upon  the  grave,  as  I  had  in  infancy  upon  the  bosom  of  my 
mother.  Alas  !  how  little  do  we  appreciate  a  mother's  tenderness 
while  living !  how  heedless  are  we  in  youth  of  all  her  anxieties 
and  kindness !  But  when  she  is  dead  and  gone ;  when  the  cares 
and  coldness  of  the  world  come  withering  to  our  hearts ;  when 
we  find  how  hard  it  is  to  meet  with  true  sympathy ;  how  few 


TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


love  us  for  ourselves  ;  how  few  will  befriend  us  in  our  misfor 
tunes  ;  then  it  is  that  we  think  of  the  mother  we  have  lost.  It 
is  true  I  had  always  loved  my  mother,  even  in  my  most  heedless 
days ;  but  I  felt  how  inconsiderate  and  ineffectual  had  been  my 
love.  My  heart  melted  as  I  retraced  the  days  of  infancy,  when 
I  was  led  by  a  mother's  hand,  and  rocked  to  sleep  in  a  mother's 
arms,  and  was  without  care  or  sorrow.  "O  my  mother !"  ex 
claimed  I,  burying  my  face  again  in  the  grass  of  the  grave ;  "  0 
that  I  were  once  more  by  your  side  ;  sleeping  never  to  wake  again 
on  the  cares  and  troubles  of  this  world." 

I  am  not  naturally  of  a  morbid  temperament,  and  the  vio 
lence  of  my  emotion  gradually  exhausted  itself.  It  was  a  hearty, 
honest,  natural  discharge  of  grief  which  had  been  slowly  accumu 
lating,  and  gave  me  wonderful  relief.  I  rose  from  the  grave  as 
if  I  had  been  offering  up  a  sacrifice,  and  I  felt  as  if  that  sacrifice 
had  been  accepted. 

I  sat  down  again  on  the  grass,  and  plucked,  one  by  one,  the 
weeds  from  her  grave :  the  tears  trickled  more  slowly  down  my 
cheeks,  and  ceased  to  be  bitter.  It  was  a  comfort  to  think  that 
she  had  died  before  sorrow  and  poverty  came  upon  her  child,  and 
tfcjjt  all  his  great  expectations  were  blasted. 

I  leaned  my  cheek  upon  my  hand,  and  looked  upon  the  land 
scape.  Its  quiet  beauty  soothed  me.  The  whistle  of  a  peasant 
from  an  adjoining  field  came  cheerily  to  my  ear.  I  seemed  to 
respire  hope  and  comfort  with  the  free  air  that  whispered  through 
the  leaves,  and  played  lightly  with  my  hair,  and  dried  the  tears 
upon  my  cheek.  A  lark,  rising  from  the  field  before  me,  and 
leaving  as  it  were  a  stream  of  song  behind  him  as  he  rose,  lifted 
my  fancy  with  him.  He  hovered  in  the  air  just  above  the  place 
where  the  towers  of  Warwick  castle  marked  the  horizon,  and 


A  DISAPPOINTED   MAN.  231 


seemed  as  if  fluttering  with  delight  at  his  own  melody.  "  Sure 
ly,"  thought  I,  "if  there  was  such  a  thing  as  transmigration  of 
souls,  this  might  be  taken  for  some  poet  let  loose  from  earth,  but 
still  revelling  in  song,  and  caroling  about  fair  fields  and  lordly 
towers." 

At  this  moment  the  long-forgotten  feeling  of  poetry  rose 
within  me.  A  thought  sprang  at  once  into  my  mind. — "  1  will 
become  an  author  !"  said  I.  "  I  have  hitherto  indulged  in  poetry 
as  a  pleasure,  and  it  has  brought  me  nothing  but  pain  ;  let  me 
try  what  it  will  do  when  I  cultivate  it  with  devotion  as  a 
pursuit." 

The  resolution  thus  suddenly  aroused  within  me  heaved  a 
load  from  off  my  heart.  I  felt  a  confidence  in  it  from  the  very 
place  where  it  was  formed.  It  seemed  as  though  my  mother's 
spirit  whispered  it  to  me  from  the  grave.  "  I  will  henceforth," 
said  I,  "  endeavor  to  be  all  that  she  fondly  imagined  me.  I  will 
endeavor  to  act  as  if  she  were  witness  of  my  actions ;  I  will 
endeavor  to  acquit  myself  in  such  a  manner  that,  when  I  revisit 
her  grave,  there  may  at  least  be  nc-  compunctious  bitterness  with 
my  tears." 

I  bowed  down  and  kissed  the  turf  in  solemn  attestation  of  my 
vow.  I  plucked  some  primroses  that  were  growing  there,  and 
laid  them  next  my  heart.  I  left  the  churchyard  with  my  spirit 
once  more  lifted  up,  and  set  out  a  third  time  for  London  in  the 
character  of  an  author. 

Here  my  companion  made  a  pause,  and  I  waited  in  anxious 
suspense,  hoping  to  have  a  whole  volume  of  literary  life  unfolded 
to  me.  He  seemed,  however,  to  have  sunk  into  a  fit  of  pensive 
musing,  and  when,  after  some  time,  I  gently  roused  him  by  a 
question  or  two  as  to  his  literary  career, 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


- "  No,"  said  he  smiling,  "  over  that  part  of  my  story  I  wish  to 
leave  a  cloud.  Let  the  mysteries  of  the  craft  rest  sacred  for  me. 
Let  those  who  have  never  ventured  into  the  republic  of  letters 
still  look  upon  it  as  a  fairy  land.  Let  them  suppose  the  author  the 
very  being  they  picture  him  from  his  works — I  am  not  the  man 
to  mar  their  illusion.  I  am  not  the  man  to  hint,  while  one  is 
admiring  the  silken  web  of  Persia,  that  it  has  been  spun  from  the 
entrails  of  a  miserable  worm." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  you  will  tell  me  nothing  of  your  literary 
history,  let  me  know  at  least  if  you  have  had  any  farther  intelli 
gence  from  Doubting  'Castle." 

"  Willingly,"  replied  he,  "  though  I  have  but  little  to  commu 
nicate." 


THE  BOOBY  SQUIRE. 

A  LONG  time  elapsed,  said  Buckthorne,  without  my  receiving 
any  accounts  of  my  cousin  and  his  estate.  Indeed,  I  felt  so  much 
soreness  on  the  subject,  that  I  wished  if  possible  to  shut  it  from 
my  thoughts.  At  length  chance  took  me  to  that  part  of  the 
country,  and  I  could  not  refraim  from  making  some  inquiries. 

I  learnt  that  my  cousin  had  grown  up  ignorant,  self-willed, 
and  clownish.  His  ignorance  and  clownishness  had  prevented 
his  mingling  with  the  neighboring  gentry :  in  spite  of  his  great 
fortune,  he  had  been  unsuccessful  in  an  attempt  to  gain  the  hand 
of  the  daughter  of  the  parson,  and  had  at  length  shrunk  into  the 
limits  of  such  a  society  as  a  mere  man  of  wealth  can  gather  in  a 
country  neighborhood. 

He  kept  horses  and  hounds,  and  a  roaring  table,  at  which 
were  collected  the  loose  livers  of  the  country  round,  and  the 
shabby  gentlemen  of  a  village  in  the  vicinity.  When  he  could 
get  no  other  company,  he  would  smoke  and  drink  with  his  own 
servants,  who  in  turn  fleeced  and  despised  him.  Still,  with  all 
his  apparent  prodigality,  he  had  a  leaven  of  the  old  man  in  him, 
which  showed  that  he  was  his  trueborn  son.  He  lived  far  within 
his  income,  was  vulgar  in  his  expenses,  and  penurious  in  many 
points  wherein  a  gentleman  would  be  extravagant.  His  house- 
servants  were  obliged  occasionally  to  work  on  his  estate,  and  part 


234  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


of  the  pleasure-grounds  were  ploughed  up  and  devoted  to  hus 
bandry. 

His  table,  though  plentiful,  was  coarse ;  his  liquors  wrere 
strong  and  bad ;  and  more  ale  and  whisky  were  expended  in  his 
establishment  than  generous  wine.  He  was  loud  and  arrogant  at 
his  own  table,  and  exacted  a  rich  man's  homage  from  his  vulgar 
and  obsequious  guests. 

As  to  Iron  John,  his  old  grandfather,  he  had  grown  impatient 
of  the  tight  hand  his  own  grandson  kept  over  him,  and  quarrelled 
with  him  soon  after  he  came  to  the  estate.  The  old  man  had 
retired  to  the  neighboring  village,  where  he  lived  on  the  legacy 
of  his  late  master,  in  a  small  cottage,  and  was  as  seldom  seen  out 
of  it  as  a  rat  out  of  his  hole  in  daylight. 

The  cub,  like  Caliban,  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive  attach 
ment  to  his  mother.  She  resided  with  him,  but,  from  long  habit, 
she  acted  more  as  a  servant  than  as  a  mistress  of  the  mansion  ; 
for  she  toiled  in  all  the  domestic  drudgery,  and  was  oftener  in  the 
kitchen  than  the  parlor.  Such  was  the  information  which  I  col 
lected  of  my  rival  cousin,  who  had  so  unexpectedly  elbowed  me 
out  of  all  my  expectations. 

I  now  felt  an  irresistible  hankering  to  pay  a  visit  to  this  scene 
of  my  boyhood,  and  to  get  a  peep  at  the  odd  kind  of  life  that  was 
passing  within  the  mansion  of  my  maternal  ancestors.  I  deter 
mined  to  do  so  in  disguise.  My  booby  cousin  had  never  seen 
enough  of  me  to  be  very  familiar  with  my  countenance,  and  a 
few  years  make  great  difference  between  youth  and  manhood.  I 
understood  he  was  a  breeder  of  cattle,  and  proud  of  his  stock  ;  I 
dressed  myself  therefore  as  a  substantial  farmer,  and  with  the 
assistance  of  a  red  scratch  that  came  low  down  on  my  forehead, 
made  a  complete  change  in  my  physiognomy. 


THE   BOOBY   SQUIRE.  235 


It  was  past  three  o'clock  when  I  arrived  at  the  gate  of  the 
park,  and  was  admitted  by  an  old  woman  who  was  washing  in  a 
dilapidated  building  which  had  once  been  a  porter's  lodge.  I 
advanced  up  the  remains  of  a  noble  avenue,  many  of  the  trees  of 
which  had^been  cut  down  and  sold  for  timber.  The  grounds 
were  in  scarcely  better  keeping  than  during  my  uncle's  lifetime. 
The  grass  was  overgrown  with  weeds,  and  the  trees  wanted 
pruning  and  clearing  of  dead  branches.  Cattle  were  grazing 
about  the  lawns,  and  ducks  and  geese  swimming  in  the  fish-ponds. 
The  road  to  the  house  bore  very  few  traces  of  carriage-wheels, 
as  my  cousin  received  few  visitors  but  such  as  came  on  foot  or 
horseback,  and  never  used  a  carriage  himself.  Once,  indeed,  as 
I  was  told,  he  had  the  old  family  carriage  drawn  out  from  among 
the  dust  and  cobwebs  of  the  coach-house,  and  furbished  up,  and 
driven,  with  his  mother,  to  the  village  church,  to  take  formal  pos 
session  of  the  family  pew  ;  but  there  was  such  hooting  and  laugh 
ing  after  them,  as  they  passed  through  the  village,  and  such  gig 
gling  and  bantering  about  the  church-door,  that  the  pageant  had 
never  made  a  reappearance. 

As  I  approached  the  house,  a  legion  of  whelps  sallied  out, 
barking  at  me,  accompanied  by  the  low  howling,  rather  than  bark 
ing,  of  two  old  worn  out  bloodhounds,  which  I  recognized  for  the 
ancient  lifeguards  of  my  uncle.  The  house  had  still  a  neglected 
random  appearance,  though  much  altered  for  the  better  since  my 
last  visit.  Several  of  the  windows  were  broken  and  patched  up 
with  boards,  and  others  had  been  bricked  up  to  save  taxes.  I 
observed  smoke,  however,  rising  from  the  chimneys,  a  phenome 
non  rarely  witnessed  in  the  ancient  establishment.  On  passing 
that  part  of  the  house  where  the  dining-room  was  situated,  I 
heard  the  sound  of  boisterous  merriment,  where  three  or  four 


236  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


voices  were  talking  at  once,  and  oaths  and  laughter  were  horribly 
mingled. 

The  uproar  of  the  dogs  had  brought  a  servant  to  the  door,  a 
tall  hard-fisted  country  clown,  with  a  livery  coat  put  over  the  un 
der  garments  of  a  ploughman.  I  requested  to  see  the  master  of 
the  house,  but  was  told  that  he  was  at  dinner  with  some  "  gem- 
men  "  of  the  neighborhood.  I  made  known  my  business,  and 
sent  in  to  know  if  I  might  talk  with  the  master  about  his  cattle, 
for  I  felt  a  great  desire  to  have  a  peep  at  him  in  his  orgies. 

Word  was  returned  that  he  was  engaged  with  company,  and 
could  not  attend  to  business,  but  that  if  I  would  step  in  and  take 
a  drink  of  something,  I  was  heartily  welcome.  I  accordingly 
entered  the  hall,  where  whips  and  hats  of  all  kinds  and  shapes 
were  lying  on  an  oaken  table ;  two  or  three  clownish  servants 
were  lounging  about ;  every  thing  had  a  look  of  confusion  and 
carelessness. 

The  apartments  through  which  I  passed  had  the  same  air  of 
departed  gentility  and  sluttish  housekeeping.  The  once  rich  cur 
tains  were  faded  and  dusty,  the  furniture  greased  and  tarnished. 
On  entering  the  dining-room  I  found  a  number  of  odd,  vulgar- 
looking,  rustic  gentlemen  seated  round  a  table,  on  which  were 
bottles,  decanters,  tankards,  pipes,  and  tobacco.  Several  dogs 
were  lying  about  the  room,  or  sitting  and  watching  their  masters, 
and  one  was  gnawing  a  bone  under  a  side-table.  The  master  of 
the  feast  sat  at  the  head  of  the  board.  He  was  greatly  altered. 
He  had  grown  thickset  and  rather  gummy,  with  a  fiery  foxy  head 
of  hair.  There  was  a  singular  mixture  of  foolishness,  arrogance, 
and  conceit,  in  his  countenance.  He  was  dressed  in  a  vulgarly 
fine  style,  with  leather  breeches,  a  red  waistcoat,  and  green  coat, 
and  was  evidently,  like  his  guests,  a  little  flushed  with  drinking. 


THE   BOOBY   SQUIRE.  237 


The  whole  company  stared  at  me  with  a  whimsical  muzzy  look, 
like  men  whose  senses  were  a  little  obfuscated  by  beer  rather 
than  wine. 

My  cousin,  (God  forgive  me  !  the  appellation  sticks  in  my 
throat,)  my  cousin  invited  me  with  awkward  civility,  or,  as  he 
intended  it,  condescension,  to  sit  to  the  table  and  drink.  We 
talked,  as  usual,  about  the  weather,  the  crops,  politics,  and  hard 
times.  My  cousin  was  a  loud  politician,  and  evidently  accustomed 
to  talk  without  contradiction  at  his  own  table.  He  was  amazingly 
loyal,  and  talked  of  standing  by  the  throne  to  the  last  guinea, 
"  as  every  gentleman  of  fortune  should  do."  The  village  excise 
man,  who  was  half  asleep,  could  just  ejaculate  "  very  true "  to 
every  thing  he  said.  The  conversation  turned  upon  cattle  ;  he 
boasted  of  his  breed,  his  mode  of  crossing  it,  and  of  the  general 
management  of  his  estate.  This  unluckily  drew  on  a  history  of 
the  place  and  of  the  family.  He  spoke  of  my  late  uncle  with 
the  greatest  irreverence,  which  I  could  easily  forgive.  He  men 
tioned  my  name,  and  my  blood  began  to  boil.  He  described  my 
frequent  visits  to  my  uncle,  when  I  was  a  lad,  and  I  found  the 
varlet,  even  at  that  time,  imp  as  he  was,  had  known  that  he  was 
to  inherit  the  estate.  He  described  the  scene  of  my  uncle's  death, 
and  the  opening  of  the  will,  with  a  degree  of  coarse  humor  that 
I  had  not  expected  from  him ;  and,  vexed  as  I  was,  I  could  not 
help  joining  in  the  laugh,  for  I  have  always  relished  a  joke,  even 
though  made  at  my  own  expense.  He  went  on  to  speak  of  my 
various  pursuits,  my  strolling  freak,  and  that  somewhat  nettled 
me  ;  at  length  he  talked  of  my  parents.  He  ridiculed  my  father ; 
I  stomached  even  that,  though  with  great  difficulty.  He  men 
tioned  my  mother  with  a  sneer,  and  in  an  instant  he  lay  sprawl 
ing  at  my  feet. 


TALES  OF   A  TRAVELLER. 


Here  a  tumult  succeeded  :  the  table  was  nearly  overturned  ; 
bottles,  glasses,  and  tankards,  rolled  crashing  and  clattering  about 
the  floor.  The  company  seized  hold  of  both  of  us,  to  keep  us 
from  doing  any  further  mischief.  I  struggled  to  get  loose,  for  I 
was  boiling  with  fury.  My  cousin  defied  me  to  strip  and  fight 
him  on  the  lawn.  I  agreed,  for  I  felt  the  strength  of  a  giant  in 
me,  and  I  longed  to  pommel  him  soundly. 

Away  then  we  were  borne.  A  ring  was  formed.  I  had  a  second 
assigned  me  in  true  boxing  style.  My  cousin,  as  he  advanced  to 
fight,  said  something  about  his  generosity  in  showing  me  such  fair 
play,  when  I  had  made  such  an  unprovoked  attack  upon  him  at 
his  own  table.  "  Stop  there,"  cried  I,  in  a  rage.  "  Unprovoked  ? 
know  that  I  am  John  Buckthorne,  and  you  have  insulted  the 
memory  of  my  mother." 

The  lout  was  suddenly  struck  by  what  I  said  :  he  drew  back, 
and  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Nay,  damn  it,"  said  he,  "  that's  too  much — that's  clean  an 
other  thing — I've  a  mother  myself — and  no  one  shall  speak  ill  of 
her,  bad  as  she  is." 

He  paused  again  :  nature  seemed  to  have  a  rough  struggle  in 
his  rude  bosom. 

"  Damn  it,  cousin,"  cried  he,  "  I'm  sorry  for  what  I  said. 
Thou'st  served  me  right  in  knocking  me  down,  and  I  like  thee 
the  better  for  it.  Here's  my  hand  :  come  and  live  with  me,  and 
damn  me  but  the  best  room  in  the  house,  and  the  best  horse  in 
the  stable,  shall  be  at  thy  service." 

I  declare  to  you  I  was  strongly  moved  at  this  instance  of  na 
ture  breaking  her  way  through  such  a  lump  of  flesh.  I  forgave 
the  fellow  in  a  moment  his  two  heinous  crimes,  of  having  been 
born  in  wedlock,  and  inheriting  my  estate.  I  shook  the  hand  he 


THE  BOOBY   SQUIRE.  239 


offered  me,  to  convince  him  that  I  bore  him  no  ill-will ;  and  then 
making  my  way  through  the  gaping  crowd  of  toadeaters,  bade 
adieu  to  my  uncle's  domains  for  ever. — This  is  the  last  I  have 
seen  or  heard  of  my  cousin,  or  of  the  domestic  concerns  of 
Doubting  Castle. 


THE  STROLLING  MANAGER. 

As  I  was  walking  one  morning  with  Buckthorne  near  one  of  the 
principal  theatres,  he  directed  my  attention  to  a  group  of  those 
equivocal  beings  that  may  often  be  seen  hovering  about  the  stage- 
doors  of  theatres.  They  were  marvellously  ill-favored  in  their 
attire,  their  coats  buttoned  up  to  their  chins  ;  yet  they  wore  their 
hats  smartly  on  one  side,  and  had  a  certain  knowing,  dirty-gentle 
manlike  air,  which  is  common  to  the  subalterns  of  the  drama. 
Buckthorne  knew  them  well  by  early  experience. 

"  These,"  said  he,  "  are  the  ghosts  of  departed  kings  and  he 
roes  ;  fellows  who  sway  sceptres  and  truncheons  ;  command  king 
doms  and  armies ;  and  after  giving  away  realms  and  treasures 
over  night,  have  scarce  a  shilling  to  pay  for  a  breakfast  in  the 
morning.  Yet  they  have  the  true  vagabond  abhorrence  of  all 
useful  and  industrious  employment ;  and  they  have  their  pleasures 
too ;  one  of  which  is  to  lounge  in  this  way  in  the  sunshine,  at  the 
stage-door,  during  rehearsals,  and  make  hackneyed  theatrical 
jokes  on  all  passers-by.  Nothing  is  more  traditional  and  legiti 
mate  than  the  stage.  Old  scenery,  old  clothes,  old  sentiments, 
old  ranting,  and  old  jokes,  are  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation  ;  and  will  probably  continue  to  be  so  until  time  shall 
be  no  more.  Every  hanger-on  of  a  theatre  becomes  a  wag  by 
inheritance,  and  flourishes  about  at  tap-rooms  and  sixpenny  clubs 
with  the  property  jokes  of  the  green-room." 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  241 


While  amusing  ourselves  with  reconnoitering  this  group,  we 
noticed  one  in  particular  who  appeared  to  be  the  oracle.  He 
was  a  weatherbeaten  veteran,  a  little  bronzed  by  time  and  beer, 
who  had  no  doubt  grown  gray  in  the  parts  of  robbers,  cardinals, 
Roman  senators,  and  walking  noblemen. 

"  There  is  something  in  the  set  of  that  hat,  and  the  turn  of 
that  physiognomy,  extremely  familiar  to  me,"  said  Buckthorne. 
He  looked  a  little  closer. — "  I  cannot  be  mistaken,  that  must  be 
my  old  brother  of  the  truncheon,  Flimsey,  the  tragic  hero  of  the 
Strolling  Company." 

It  was  he  in  fact.  The  poor  fellow  showed  evident  signs  that 
times  went  hard  with  him,  he  was  so  finely  and  shabbily  dressed. 
His  coat  was  somewhat  threadbare,  and  of  the  Lord  Townley 
cut ;  single-breasted,  and  scarcely  capable  of  meeting  in  front  of 
his  body,  which,  from  long  intimacy,  had  acquired  the  symmetry 
and  robustness  of  a  beer  barrel.  He  wore  a  pair  of  dingy- white 
stockinet  pantaloons,  which  had  much  ado  to  reach  his  waistcoat ; 
a  great  quantity  of  dirty  cravat ;  and  a  pair  of  old  russet-colored 
tragedy  boots. 

When  his  companions  had  dispersed,  Buckthorne  drew  him 
aside,  and  made  himself  known  to  him.  The  tragic  veteran 
could  scarcely  recognize  him,  or  believe  that  he  was  really  his 
quondam  associate,  "  little  Gentleman  Jack."  Buckthorne  invited 
him  to  a  neighboring  coffee-house  to  talk  over  old  times ;  and  in 
the  course  of  a  little  while  we  were  put  in  possession  of  his  his 
tory  in  brief. 

He  had  continued  to  act  the  heroes  in  the  strolling  company 
for  some  time  after  Buckthorne  had  left  it,  or  rather  had  been 
driven  from  it  so  abruptly.  At  length  the  manager  died,  and  the 
troop  was  thrown  into  confusion.  Every  one  aspired  to  the 

11 


242  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


crown,  every  one  was  for  taking  the  lead;  and  the  manager's 
widow,  although  a  tragedy  queen,  and  a  brimstone  to  boot,  pro 
nounced  it  utterly  impossible  for  a  woman  to  keep  any  control 
over  such  a  set  of  tempestuous  rascallions. 

"  Upon  this  hint,  I  spoke,"  said  Flimsey.  I  stepped  forward, 
and  offered  my  services  in  the  most  effectual  way.  They  were 
accepted.  In  a  week's  time  I  married  the  widow,  and  succeeded 
to  the  throne.  "  The  funeral  baked  meats  did  coldly  furnish  forth 
the  marriage  table,"  as  Hamlet  says.  But  the  ghost  of  my  pre 
decessor  never  haunted  me ;  and  I  inherited  crowns,  sceptres, 
bowls,  daggers,  and  all  the  stage  trappings  and  trumpery,  not 
omitting  the  widow,  without  the  least  molestation. 

I  now  led  a  flourishing  life  of  it ;  for  our  company  was  pretty 
strong  and  attractive,  and  as  my  wife  and  I  took  the  heavy  parts 
of  tragedy,  it  was  a  great  saving  to  the  treasury.  We  carried 
off  the  palm  from  all  the  rival  shows  at  country  fairs  ;  and  I  as 
sure  you  we  have  even  drawn  full  houses,  and  been  applauded  by 
the  critics  at  Batlemy  Fair  itself,  though  we  had  Astley's  troop, 
the  Irish  giant,  and  "  the  death  of  Nelson  "  in  wax-work,  to  con 
tend  against. 

I  soon  began  to  experience,  however,  the  cares  of  command. 
I  discovered  that  there  were  cabals  breaking  out  in  the  company, 
headed  by  the  clown,  who  you  may  recollect  was  a  terribly  peev 
ish,  fractious  fellow,  and  always  in  ill-humor.  I  had  a  great 
mind  to  turn  him  off  at  once,  but  I  could  not  do  without  him,  for 
there  was  not  a  droller  scoundrel  on  the  stage.  His  very  shape 
was  comic,  for  he  had  but  to  turn  his  back  upon  the  audience,  and 
all  the  ladies  were  ready  to  die  with  laughing.  He  felt  his  im 
portance,  and  took  advantage  of  it.  He  would  keep  the  audience 
in  a  continual  roar,  and  then  come  behind  the  scenes,  and  fret 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  243 


and  fume,  and  play  the  very  devil.  I  excused  a  great  deal  in 
him,  however,  knowing  that  comic  actors  are  a  little  prone  to  this 
infirmity  of  temper. 

I  had  another  trouble  of  a  nearer  and  dearer  nature  to  strug 
gle  with,  which  was  the  affection  of  my  wife.  As  ill-luck  would 
have  it,  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  be  very  fond  of  me,  and 
became  intolerably  jealous.  I  could  not  keep  a  pretty  girl  in  the 
company,  and  hardly  dared  embrace  an  ugly  one,  even  when  my 
part  required  it.  I  have  known  her  reduce  a  fine  lady  to  tat 
ters,  "  to  very  rags,"  as  Hamlet  says,  in  an  instant,  and  destroy 
one  of  the  very  best  dresses  in  the  wardrobe,  merely  because 
she  saw  me  kiss  her  at  the  side  scenes ;  though  I  give  you  my 
honor  it  was  done  merely  by  way  of  rehearsal. 

This  was  doubly  annoying,  because  I  have  a  natural  liking  to 
pretty  faces,  and  wish  to  have  them  about  me ;  and  because  they 
are  indispensable  to  the  success  of  a  company  at  a  fair,  where 
one  has  to  vie  with  so  many  rival  theatres.  But  when  once  a 
jealous  wife  gets  a  freak  in  her  head,  there's  no  use  in  talking  of 
interest  or  any  thing  else.  Egad,  sir,  I  have  more  than  once 
trembled  when,  during  a  fit  of  her  tantrums,  she  was  playing  high 
tragedy,  and  flourishing  her  tin  dagger  on  the  stage,  lest  she 
should  give  way  to  her  humor,  and  stab  some  fancied  rival  in 
good  earnest. 

I  went  on  better,  however,  than  could  be  expected,  consider 
ing  the  weakness  of  my  flesh,  and  the  violence  of  my  rib.  I 
had  not  a  much  worse  time  of  it  than  old  Jupiter,  whose  spouse 
was  continually  ferreting  out  some  new  intrigue,  and  making  the 
heavens  almost  too  hot  to  hold  him. 

At  length,  as  luck  would  have  it,  we  were  performing  at 
a  country  fair,  when  I  understood  the  theatre  of  a  neighboring 


244  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


town  to  be  vacant.  I  had  always  been  desirous  to  be  enrolled 
in  a  settled  company,  and  the  height  of  my  desire  was  to  get  on 
a  par  with  a  brother-in-law,  who  was  manager  of  a  regular 
theatre,  and  who  had  looked  down  upon  me.  Here  was  an  oppor 
tunity  not  to  be  neglected.  I  concluded  an  agreement  with  the 
proprietors,  and  in  a  few  days  opened  the  theatre  with  great  eclat. 

Behold  me  now  at  the  summit  of  my  ambition,  "  the  high 
top-gallant  of  my  joy,"  as  Romeo  says.  No  longer  a  chieftain 
of  a  wandering  tribe,  but  a  monarch  of  a  legitimate  throne,  and 
entitled  to  call  even  the  great  potentates  of  Covent  Garden  and 
Drury  Lane  cousins.  You,  no  doubt,  think  my  happiness  com 
plete.  Alas,  sir!  I  was  one  of  the  most  uncomfortable  dogs 
living.  No  one  knows,  who  has  not  tried,  the  miseries  of  a 
manager ;  but  above  all  of  a  country  manager.  No  one  can 
conceive  the  contentions  and  quarrels  within  doors,  the  oppres 
sions  and  vexations  from  without.  I  was  pestered  with  the  bloods 
and  loungers  of  a  country  town,  who  infested  my  green-room,  and 
played  the  mischief  among  my  actresses.  But  there  was  no 
shaking  them  off.  It  would  have  been  ruin  to  affront  them  ;  for 
though  troublesome  friends,  they  would  have  been  dangerous 
enemies.  Then  there  were  the  village  critics  and  village  ama 
teurs,  who  were  continually  tormenting  me  with  advice,  and  get 
ting  into  a  passion  if  I  would  not  take  it ;  especially  the  village 
doctor  and  the  village  attorney,  who  had  both  been  to  London 
occasionally,  and  knew  what  acting  should  be. 

I  had  also  to  manage  as  arrant  a  crew  of  scapegraces  as  ever 
were  collected  together  within  the  walls  of  a  theatre.  I  had 
been  obliged  to  combine  my  original  troop  with  some  of  the 
former  troop  of  the  theatre,  who  were  favorites  of  the  public. 
Here  was  a  mixture  that  produced  perpetual  ferment.  They 


THE  STROLLING  MANAGER.  245 


were  all  the  time  either  fighting  or  frolicking  with  each  other,  and 
I  scarcely  know  which  mood  was  least  troublesome.  If  they 
quarrelled,  every  thing  went  wrong ;  and  if  they  were  friends, 
they  were  continually  playing  off  some  prank  upon  each  other, 
or  upon  me ;  for  I  had  unhappily  acquired  among  them  the  cha 
racter  of  an  easy,  good-natured  fellow — the  worst  character  that 
a  manager  can  possess. 

Their  waggery  at  times  drove  me  almost  crazy ;  for  there  is 
nothing  so  vexatious  as  the  hackneyed  tricks  and  hoaxes  and 
pleasantries  of  a  veteran  band  of  theatrical  vagabonds.  I  re 
lished  them  well  enough,  it  is  true,  while  I  was  merely  one  of  the 
company,  but  as  manager  I  found  them  destestable.  They  were 
incessantly  bringing  some  disgrace  upon  the  theatre  by  their 
tavern  frolicks  and  their  pranks  about  the  country  town.  All  my 
lectures  about  the  importance  of  keeping  up  the  dignity  of  the 
profession  and  the  respectability  of  the  company  were  in  vain. 
The  villains  could  not  sympathize  with  the  delicate  feelings  of  a 
man  in  station.  They  even  trifled  with  the  seriousness  of  stage 
business.  I  have  had  the  whole  piece  interrupted,  and  a  crowded 
audience  of  at  least  twenty-five  pounds  kept  waiting,  because  the 
actors  had  hid  away  the  breeches  of  Rosalind ;  and  have  known 
Hamlet  to  stalk  solemnly  on  to  deliver  his  soliloquy,  with  a  dish- 
clout  pinned  to  his  skirts.  Such  are  the  baleful  consequences  of 
a  manager's  getting  a  character  for  good-nature. 

I  was  intolerably  annoyed,  too,  by  the  great  actors  who  came 
down  starring,  as  it  is  called,  from  London.  Of  all  baneful 
influences,  keep  me  from  that  of  a  London  star.  A  first-rate 
actress  going  the  rounds  of  the  country  theatres  is  as  bad  as  a 
blazing  comet  whisking  about  the  heavens,  and  shaking  fire  and 
plagues  and  discords  from  its  tail. 


246  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


The  moment  one  of  these  "  heavenly  bodies  "  appeared  in 
my  horizon,  I  was  sure  to  be  in  hot  water.  My  theatre  was 
overrun  by  provincial  dandies,  copper-washed  counterfeits  of 
Bond-street  loungers,  who  are  always  proud  to  be  in  the  train  of 
an  actress  from  town,  and  anxious  to  be  thought  on  exceeding 
good  terms  with  her.  It  was  really  a  relief  to  me  when  some 
random  young  nobleman  would  corne  in  pursuit  of  the  bait,  and 
awe  all  this  small  fry  at  a  distance.  I  have  always  felt  myself 
more  at  ease  with  a  nobleman  than  with  the  dandy  of  a  country 
town. 

And  then  the  injuries  I  suffered  in  my  personal  dignity  and 
my  managerial  authority  from  the  visits  of  these  great  London 
actors !  'Sblood,  sir,  I  was  no  longer  master  of  myself  on  my 
throne.  I  was  hectored  and  lectured  in  my  own  green-room,  and 
made  an  absolute  nincompoop  on  my  own  stage.  There  is  no 
tyrant  so  absolute  and  capricious  as  a  London  star  at  a  country 
theatre.  I  dreaded  the  sight  of  all  of  them,  and  yet  if  I  did  not 
engage  them,  I  was  sure  of  having  the  public  clamorous  against 
me.  They  drew  full  houses,  and  appeared  to  be  making  my  for 
tune  ;  but  they  swallowed  up  all  the  profits  by  their  insatiable 
demands.  They  were  absolute  tape-worms  to  my  little  theatre  ; 
the  more  it  took  in  the  poorer  it  grew.  They  were  sure  to  leave 
me  with  an  exhausted  public,  empty  benches,  and  a  score  or  two 
of  aifronts  to  settle  among  the  town's  folk,  in  consequence  of  mis 
understandings  about  the  taking  of  places. 

But  the  worst  thing  I  had  to  undergo  in  my  managerial  ca 
reer  was  patronage.  Oh,  sir  !  of  all  things  deliver  me  from  the 
patronage  of  the  great  people  of  a  country  town.  It  was  my 
ruin.  You  must  know  that  this  town,  though  small,  was  filled 
with  feuds,  and  parties,  and  great  folks  ;  being  a  busy  little  tra- 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  247 


ding  and  manufacturing  town.  The  mischief  was  that  their 
greatness  was  of  a  kind  not  to  be  settled  by  reference  to  the  court 
calendar,  or  college  of  heraldry ;  it  was  therefore  the  most  quar 
relsome  kind  of  greatness  in  existence.  You  smile,  sir,  but  let  me 
tell  you  there  are  no  feuds  more  furious  than  the  frontier  feuds 
which  take  place  in  these  "  debatable  lands  "  of  gentility.  The 
most  violent  dispute  that  I  ever  knew  in  high  life  was  one  which 
occurred  at  a  country  town,  on  a  question  of  precedence  between 
the  ladies  of  a  manufacturer  of  pins  and  a  manufacturer  of  needles. 

At  the  town  where  I  was  situated  there  were  perpetual  alter 
cations  of  the  kind.  The  head  manufacturer's  lady,  for  instance, 
was  at  daggers-drawings  with  the  head  shopkeeper's,  and  both 
were  too  rich  and  had  too  many  friends  to  be  treated  lightly.  The 
doctor's  and  lawyer's  ladies  held  their  heads  still  higher ;  but 
they  in  their  turn  were  kept  in  check  by  the  wife  of  a  country 
banker,  who  kept  her  own  carriage  ;  while  a  masculine  widow  of  4 
cracked  character  and  second-hand  fashion,  who  lived  in  a  large 
house,  and  claimed  to  be  in  some  way  related  to  nobility,  looked 
down  upon  them  all.  To  be  sure,  her  manners  were  not  over 
elegant,  nor  her  fortune  over  large ;  but  then,  sir,  her  blood — oh, 
her  blood  carried  it  all  hollow;  there  was  no  withstanding  a 
woman  with  such  blood  in  her  veins.  «• 

After  all,  her  claims  to  high  connexion  were  questioned,  and 
she  had  frequent  battles  for  precedence  at  balls  and  assemblies 
with  some  of  the  sturdy  dames  of  the  neighborhood,  who  stood 
upon  their  wealth  and  their  virtue  ;  but  then  she  had  two  dashing 
daughters,  who  dressed  as  fine  as  dragons,  had  as  high  blood  as 
their  mother,  and  seconded  her  in  every  thing ;  so  they  carried 
their  point  with  high  heads,  and  every  body  hated,  abused,  and 
stood  in  awe  of  the  Fantadlins. 


248  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


Such  was  the  state  of  the  fashionable  world  in  this  self-impor 
tant  little  town.  Unluckily,  I  was  not  as  well  acquainted  with  its 
politics  as  I  should  have  been.  I  had  found  myself  a  stranger 
and  in  great  perplexities  during  my  first  season ;  I  determined, 
therefore,  to  put  myself  under  the  patronage  of  some  powerful 
name,  and  thus  to  take  the  field  with  the  prejudices  of  the  public 
in  my  favor.  I  cast  round  my  thoughts  for  the  purpose,  and  in 
an  evil  hour  they  fell  upon  Mrs.  Fantadlin.  No  one  seemed  to 
me  to  have  a  more  absolute  sway  in  the  world  of  fashion.  I  had 
always  noticed  that  her  party  slammed  the  box-door  the  loudest 
at  the  theatre ;  had  most  beaus  attending  on  them,  and  talked 
and  laughed  loudest  during  the  performance  ;  and  then  the  Miss 
Fantadlins  wore  always  more  feathers  and  flowers  than  any  other 
ladies  ;  and  used  quizzing-glasses  incessantly.  The  first  evening 
of  my  theatre's  re-opening,  therefore,  was  announced  in  staring 
capitals  on  the  play-bills,  as  under  the  patronage  of  "  The  Hon 
orable  Mrs.  Fantadlin." 

Sir,  the  whole  community  flew  to  arms !  the  banker's  wife 
felt  her  dignity  grievously  insulted  at  not  having  the  preference  ; 
her  husband  being  high  bailiff  and  the  richest  man  in  the  place. 
She  immediately  issued  invitations  for  a  large  party,  for  the  night 
of  the  performance,  and  asjjed  many  a  lady  to  it  whom  she  never 
had  noticed  before.  Presume  to  patronize  the  theatre  !  Insuffer 
able  !  And  then  for  me  to  dare  to  term  her  '  The  Honorable  !' 
What  claim  had  she  to  the  title  forsooth  !  The  fashionable  world 
had  long  groaned  under  the  tyranny  of  the  Fantadlins,  and  were 
glad  to  make  a  common  cause  against  this  new  instance  of  as 
sumption.  Those,  too,  who  had  never  before  been  noticed  by  the 
banker's  lady  were  ready  to  enlist  in  any  quarrel  for  the  honor 
of  her  acquaintance.  All  minor  feuds  were  forgotten.  The  doc- 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  249 


tor's  lady  and  the  lawyer's  lady  met  together,  and  the  manufactu 
rer's  lady  and  the  shopkeeper's  lady  kissed  each  other ;  and  all, 
headed  by  the  banker's  lady,  voted  the  theatre  a  bore,  and  deter 
mined  to  encourage  nothing  but  the  Indian  Jugglers  and  Mr. 
Walker's  Eidouranion. 

Alas  for  poor  Pillgarlick !  I  knew  little  the  mischief  that  was 
brewing  against  me.  My  box-book  remained  blank ;  the  even 
ing  arrived  ;  but  no  -audience.  The  music  struck  up  to  a  tolera 
ble  pit  and  gallery,  but  no  fashionables !  I  peeped  anxiously 
from  behind  the  curtain,  but  the  time  passed  away ;  the  play  was 
retarded  until  pit  and  gallery  became  furious ;  and  I  had  to  raise 
the  curtain,  and  play  my  greatest  part  in  tragedy  to  "  a  beggarly 
account  of  empty  boxes." 

It  is  true  the  Fantadlins  came  late,  as  was  their  custom,  and 
entered  like  a  tempest,  with  a  flutter  of  feathers  and  red  shawls ; 
but  they  were  evidently  disconcerted  at  finding  they  had  no  one 
to  admire  and  envy  them,  and  were  enraged  at  this  glaring  defec 
tion  of  their  fashionable  followers.  All  the  beau-monde  were 
engaged  at  the  banker's  lady's  rout.  They  remained  for  some 
time  in  solitary  and  uncomfortable  state,  and  though  they  had  the 
theatre  almost  to  themselves,  yet,  for  the  first  time,  they  talked 
in  whispers.  They  left  the  house  at  the  end  of  the  first  piece, 
and  I  never  saw  them  afterwards. 

Such  was  the  rock  on  which  I  split.  I  never  got  over  the 
patronage  of  the  Fantadlin  family.  My  house  was  deserted  ;  my 
actors  grew  discontented  because  they  were  ill  paid ;  my  door 
became  a  hammering  place  for  every  bailiff  in  the  country ;  and 
my  wife  became  more  and  more  shrewish  and  tormenting  the 
more  I  wanted  comfort. 

I  tried  for  a  time  the  usual  consolation  of  a  harassed  and  hen- 
11* 


250  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


pecked  man ;  I  took  to  the  bottle,  and  tried  to  tipple  away  my 
cares,  but  in  vain.  I  don't  mean  to  decry  the  bottle ;  it  is  no 
doubt  an  excellent  remedy  in  many  cases,  but  it  did  not  answer 
in  mine.  It  cracked  my  voice,  coppered  my  nose,  but  neither 
improved  my  wife  nor  my  affairs.  My  establishment  became  a 
scene  of  confusion  and  peculation.  I  was  considered  a  ruined 
man,  and  of  course  fair  game  for  every  one  to  pluck  at,  as  every 
one  plunders  a  sinking  ship.  Day  after  day  some  of  the  troop 
deserted,  and,  like  deserting  soldiers,  carried  off  their  arms  and 
accoutrements  with  them.  In  this  manner  my  wardrobe  took 
legs  and  walked  away,  my  finery  strolled  all  over  the  country, 
my  swords  and  daggers  glittered  in  every  barn,  until,  at  last,  my 
tailor  made  "  one  fell  swoop,"  and  carried  off  three  dress-coats, 
half  a  dozen  doublets,  and  nineteen  pair  of  flesh-colored  panta 
loons.  This  was  the  "  be  all  and  the  end  all  "  of  my  fortune.  I  no 
longer  hesitated  what  to  do.  Egad,  thought  I,  since  stealing  is 
the  order  of  the  day,  I'll  steal  too  ;  so  I  secretly  gathered  together 
the  jewels  of  my  wardrobe,  packed  up  a  hero's  dress  in  a  hand 
kerchief,  slung  it  on  the  end  of  a  tragedy  sword,  and  quietly  stole 
off  at  dead  of  night,  "  the  bell  then  beating  one,"  leaving  my 
queen  and  kingdom  to  the  mercy  of  my  rebellious  subjects,  and 
my  merciless  foes  the  bumbailiffs. 

Such,  sir,  was  the  "  end  of  all  my  greatness."  I  was  heartily 
cured  of  all  passion  for  governing,  and  returned  once  more  into 
the  ranks.  I  had  for  some  time  the  usual  run  of  an  actor's  life  : 
I  played  in  various  country  theatres,  at  fairs,  and  in  barns  ;  some 
times  hard  pushed,  sometimes  flush,  until,  on  one  occasion,  I  came 
within  an  ace  of  making  my  fortune,  and  becoming  one  of  the 
wonders  of  the  age. 

I  was  playing  the  part  of  Richard  the  Third  in  a  country 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  251 


barn,  and  in  my  best  style  ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  a  little  in 
liquor,  and  the  critics  of  the  company  always  observed  that  I 
played  with  most  effect  when  I  had  a  glass  too  much.  There 
was  a  thunder  of  applause  when  I  came  to  that  part  where  Rich- 
ard  cries  for  "  a  horse !  a  horse !"  My  cracked  voice  had  always 
a  wonderful  effect  here  ;  it  was  like  two  voices  run  into  one  ;  you 
would  have  thought  two  men  had  been  calling  for  a  horse,  or  that 
Richard  had  called  for  two  horses.  And  when  I  flung  the  taunt 
at  Richmond,  "  Richard  is  hoarse  with  calling  thee  to  arms,"  I 
thought  the  barn  would  have  come  down  about  my  ears  with  the 
raptures  of  the  audience. 

The  very  next  morning  a  person  waited  upon  me  at  my  lodg 
ings.  I  saw  at  once  he  was  a  gentleman  by  his  dress  ;  for  he  had 
a  large  brooch  in  his  bosom,  thick  rings  on  his  fingers,  and  used  a 
quizzing-glass.  And  a  gentleman  he  proved  to  be  ;  for  I  soon 
ascertained  that  he  was  a  kept  author,  or  kind  of  literary  tailor 
to  one  of  the  great  London  theatres  ;  one  who  worked  under 
the  manager's  directions,  and  cut  up  and  cut  down  plays,  and 
patched  and  pieced,  and  new  faced,  and  turned  them  inside  out ; 
in  short,  he  was  one  of  the  readiest  and  greatest  writers  of  the 
day. 

He  was  now  on  a  foraging  excursion  in  quest  of  something 
that  might  be  got  up  for  a  prodigy.  The  theatre,  it  seems,  was 
in  desperate  condition — nothing  but  a  miracle  could  save  it.  He 
had  seen  me  act  Richard  the  night  before,  and  had  pitched  upon 
me  for  that  miracle.  I  had  a  remarkable  bluster  in  my  style  and 
swagger  in  my  gait.  I  certainly  differed  from  all  other  heroes  of 
the  barn  :  so  the  thought  struck  the  agent  to  bring  me  out  as  a 
theatrical  wonder,  as  the  restorer  of  natural  and  legitimate  act- 


252  TALES    OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


ing,  as  the  only  one  who  could  understand  and  act  Shakspeare 
rightly. 

When  he  opened  his  plan  I  shrunk  from  it  with  becoming 
modesty,  for  well  as  I  thought  of  myself,  I  doubted  my  compe 
tency  to  such  an  undertaking. 

I  hinted  at  my  imperfect  knowledge  of  Shakspeare,  having 
played  his  characters  only  after  mutilated  copies,  interlarded  with 
a  great  deal  of  my  own  talk  by  way  of  helping  memory  or  height 
ening  the  effect. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  cried  the  gentleman  with  rings  on  his 
fingers  ;  "  so  much  the  better.  New  readings,  sir ! — new  read 
ings  !  Don't  study  a  line — let  us  have  Shakspeare  after  your 
own  fashion." 

"  But  then  my  voice  was  cracked  ;  it  could  not  fill  a  London 
theatre." 

"  So  much  the  better  !  so  much  the  better  !  The  public  is 
tired  of  intonation — the  ore  rotundo  has  had  its  day.  No,  sir, 
your  cracked  voice  is  the  very  thing — spit  and  splutter,  and  snap 
and  snarl,  and  'play  the  very  dog'  about  the  stage,  and  you'll  be 
the  making  of  us." 

"  But  then," — I  could  not  help  blushing  to  the  end  of  my 
very  nose  as  I  said  it,  but  I  was  determined  to  be  candid  ; — "  but 
then,"  added  I,  "  there  is  one  awkward  circumstance ;  I  have  an 
unlucky  habit — my  misfortunes,  and  the  exposures  to  which  one 
is  subjected  in  country  barns,  have  obliged  me  now  and  then 
to — to — take  a  drop  of  something  comfortable — and  so — and 
so ." 

"  What !  you  drink  ?"  cried  the  agent  eagerly. 

I  bowed  my  head  in  blushing  acknowledgment. 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  253 


"  So  much  the  better !  so  much  the  better  !  The  irregularities 
of  genius  !  A  sober  fellow  is  commonplace.  The  public  like  an 
actor  that  drinks.  Give  me  your  hand,  sir.  You're  the  very 
man  to  make  a  dash  with." 

I  still  hung  back  with  lingering  diffidence,  declaring  myself 
unworthy  of  such  praise. 

"  'Sblood,  man,"  cried  he,  "  no  praise  at  all.  You  don't 
imagine  /  think  you  a  wonder ;  I  only  want  the  public  to 
think  so.  Nothing  is  so  easy  as  to  gull  the  public,  if  you  only 
set  up  a  prodigy.  Common  talent  any  body  can  measure  by 
common  rule ;  but  a  prodigy  sets  all  rule  and  measurement  at 
defiance." 

These  words  opened  my  eyes  in  an  instant :  we  now  came  to 
a  proper  understanding,  less  flattering,  it  is  true,  to  my  vanity, 
but  much  more  satisfactory  to  my  judgment. 

It  was  agreed  that  I  should  make  my  appearance  before  a 
London  audience,  as  a  dramatic  sun  just  bursting  from  behind 
the  clouds  :  one  that  was  to  banish  all  the  lesser  lights  and  false 
fires  of  the  stage.  Every  precaution  was  to  be  taken  to  possess 
the  public  mind  at  every  avenue.  The  pit  was  to  be  packed  with 
sturdy  clappers ;  the  newspapers  secured  by  vehement  puffers  ; 
every  theatrical  resort  to  be  haunted  by  hireling  talkers.  In  a 
word,  every  engine  of  theatrical  humbug  was  to  be  put  in  action. 
Wherever  I  differed  from  former  actors,  it  was  to  be  maintained 
that  I  was  right  and  they  were  wrong.  If  I  ranted,  it  was  to  be 
pure  passion  ;  if  I  were  vulgar,  it  was  to  be  pronounced  a  familiar 
touch  of  nature  ;  if  I  made  any  queer  blunder,  it  was  to  be  a 
new  reading.  If  my  voice  cracked,  or  I  got  out  in  my  part,  I 
was  only  to  bounce,  and  grin,  and  snarl  at  the  audience,  and 
make  any  horrible  grimace  that  came  into  my  head,  and  my  ad- 


254  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


mirers  were  to  call  it  "  a  great  point,"  and  to  fall  back  and  shout 
and  yell  with  rapture. 

"  In  short,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  quizzing-glass,  "  strike 
out  boldly  and  bravely :  no  matter  how  or  what  you  do,  so  that 
it  be  but  odd  and  strange.  If  you  do  but  escape  pelting  the  first 
night,  your  fortune  and  the  fortune  of  the  theatre  is  made." 

I  set  off  for  London,  therefore,  in  company  with  the  kept  au 
thor,  full  of  new  plans  and  new  hopes.  I  was  to  be  the  restorer 
of  Shakspeare  and  Nature,  and  the  legitimate  drama ;  my  very 
swagger  was  to  be  heroic,  aud  my  cracked  voice  the  standard  of 
elocution.  Alas,  sir,  my  usual  luck  attended  me :  before  I  ar 
rived  at  the  metropolis  a  rival  wonder  had  appeared  ;  a  woman 
who  could  dance  the  slack  rope,  and  run  up  a  cord  from  the  stage 
to  the  gallery  with  fireworks  all  round  her.  She  was  seized  on 
by  the  manager  with  avidity.  She  was  the  saving  of  the  great 
national  theatre  for  the  season.  Nothing  was  talked  of  but 
Madame  Saqui's  fireworks  and  flesh-colored  pantaloons ;  and 
Nature,  Shakspeare,  the  legitimate  drama,  and  poor  Pillgarlick, 
were  completely  left  in  the  lurch. 

When  Madame  Saqui's  performance  grew  stale,  other  won 
ders  succeeded :  horses,  and  harlequinades,  and  mummery  of  all 
kinds ;  until  another  dramatic  prodigy  was  brought  forward  to 
play  the  very  game  for  which  I  had  been  intended.  I  called 
upon  the  kept  author  for  an  explanation,  but  he  was  deeply  en 
gaged  in  writing  a  melo-drama  or  a  pantomime,  and  was  ex 
tremely  testy  on  being  interrupted  in  his  studies.  However,  as 
the  theatre  was  in  some  measure  pledged  to  provide  for  me,  the 
manager  acted,  according  to  the  usual  phrase,  "  like  a  man  of 
honor,"  and  I  received  an  appointment  in  the  corps.  It  had 
been  a  turn  of  a  die  whether  I  should  be  Alexander  the  Great 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  255 


or  Alexander  the  coppersmith — the  latter  carried  it.  I  could  not 
be  put  at  the  head  of  the  drama,  so  I  was  put  at  the  tail  of  it. 
In  other  words,  I  was  enrolled  among  the  number  of  what  are 
called  useful  men  ;  those  who  enact  soldiers,  senators,  and  Ban- 
quo's  shadowy  line.  I  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  my  lot ;  for  I 
have  always  been  a  bit  of  a  philosopher.  If  my  situation  was 
not  splendid,  it  at  least  was  secure ;  and  in  fact  I  have  seen  half 
a  dozen  prodigies  appear,  dazzle,  burst  like  bubbles  and  pass 
away,  and  yet  here  I  am,  snug,  unenvied  and  unmolested,  at  the 
foot  of  the  profession. 

You  may  smile;  but  let  me  tell  you,  we  "  useful  men"  are 
the  only  comfortable  actors  on  the  stage.  We  are  safe  from 
hisses,  and  below  the  hope  of  applause.  We  fear  not  the  success 
of  rivals,  nor  dread  the  critic's  pen.  So  long  as  we  get  the  words 
of  our  parts,  and  they  are  not  often  many,  it  is  all  we  care  for. 
We  have  our  own  merriment,  our  own  friends,  and  our  own 
admirers — for  every  actor  has  his  friends  and  admirers,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest.  The  first-rate  actor  dines  with  the  noble 
amateur,  and  entertains  a  fashionable  table  with  scraps  and  songs 
and  theatrical  slip-slop.  The  second-rate  actors  have  their  sec 
ond-rate  friends  and  admirers,  with  whom  they  likewise  spout 
tragedy  and  talk  slip-slop — and  so  down  even  to  us ;  who  have 
our  friends  and  admirers  among  spruce  clerks  and  aspiring 
apprentices — who  treat  us  to  a  dinner  now  and  then,  and  enjoy 
at  tenth  hand  the  same  scraps  and  songs  and  slip-slop  that  have 
been  served  up  by  our  more  fortunate  brethren  at  the  tables  of 
the  great. 

I  now,  for  the  first  time  in  my  theatrical  life,  experience  what 
true  pleasure  is.  I  have  known  enough  of  notoriety  to  pity  the 
poor  devils  who  are  called  favorites  of  the  public.  I  would 


256  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


rather  be  a  kitten  in  the  arms  of  a  spoiled  child,  to  be  one 
moment  patted  and  pampered  and  the  next  moment  thumped 
over  the  head  with  the  spoon.  I  smile  to  see  our  leading  actors 
fretting  themselves  with  envy  and  jealousy  about  a  trumpery 
renown,  questionable  in  its  quality,  and  uncertain  in  its  duration. 
I  laugh,  too,  though  of  course  in  my  sleeve,  at  the  bustle  and 
importance,  and  trouble  and  perplexities  of  our  manager — who  is 
harassing  himself  to  death  in  the  hopeless  effort  to  please  every 
body. 

I  hare  found  among  my  fellow  subalterns  two  or  three  quon 
dam  managers,  who  like  myself  have  wielded  the  sceptres  of 
country  theatres,  and  we  have  many  a  sly  joke  together  at  the 
expense  of  the  manager  and  the  public.  Sometimes,  too,  we 
meet,  like  deposed  and  exiled  kings,  talk  over  the  events  of  our 
respective  reigns,  moralize  over  a  tankard  of  ale,  and  laugh  at 
the  humbug  of  the  great  and  little  world  ;  which,  I  take  it,  is  the 
essence  of  practical  philosophy. 


Thus  end  the  anecdotes  of  Buckthorne  and  his  friends.  It 
grieves  me  much  that  I  could  not  procure  from  him  further 
particulars  of  his  history,  and  especially  of  that  part  of  it  which 
passed  in  town.  He  had  evidently  seen  much  of  literary  life ; 
and,  as  he  had  never  risen  to  eminence  in  letters,  and  yet  was 
free  from  the  gall  of  disappointment,  I  had  hoped  to  gain  some 
candid  intelligence  concerning  his  contemporaries.  The  testi 
mony  of  such  an  honest  chronicler  would  have  been  particularly 
valuable  at  the  present  time ;  when,  owing  to  the  extreme  fecun 
dity  of  the  press,  and  the  thousand  anecdotes,  criticisms,  and  bio 
graphical  sketches  that  are  daily  poured  forth  concerning  public 


THE   STROLLING   MANAGER.  257 


characters,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  get  at  any  truth  concerning 
them. 

He  was  always,  however,  excessively  reserved  and  fastidious 
on  this  point,  at  which  I  very  much  wondered,  authors  in  general 
appearing  to  think  each  other  fair  game,  and  being  ready  to 
serve  each  other  up  for  the  amusement  of  the  public. 

A  few  mornings  after- hearing  the  history  of  the  ex-manager, 
I  was  surprised  by  a  visit  from  Buckthorne  before  I  was  out  of 
bed.  He  was  dressed  for  travelling. 

"  Give  me  joy !  give  me  joy !"  said  he,  rubbing  his  hands 
with  the  utmost  glee,  "  my  great  expectations  are  realized !" 

I  gazed  at  him  with  a  look  of  wonder  and  inquiry. 

"  My  booby  cousin  is  dead !"  cried  he ;  "  may  he  rest  in 
peace !  he  nearly  broke  his  neck  in  a  fall  from  his  horse  in  a 
fox-chase.  By  good  luck,  he  lived  long  enough  to  make  his  will. 
He  has  made  me  his  heir,  partly  out  of  an  odd  feeling  of  retribu 
tive  justice,  and  partly  because,  as  he  says,  none  of  his  own  family 
nor  friends  know  how  to  enjoy  such  an  estate.  I'm  off  to  the 
country  to  take  possession.  I've  done  with  authorship.  That 
for  the  critics !"  said  he,  snapping  his  finger.  "  Come  down  to 
Doubting  Castle,  when  I  get  settled,  and,  egad,  I'll  give  you  a 
rouse."  So  saying,  he  shook  me  heartily  by  the  hand,  and 
bounded  off  in  high  spirits. 

A  long  time  elapsed  before  I  heard  from  him  again.  Indeed, 
it  was  but  lately  that  I  received  a  letter,  written  in  the  happiest 
of  moods.  He  was  getting  the  estate  in  fine  order  ;  every  thing 
went  to  his  wishes ;  and  what  was  more,  he  was  married  to  Sa- 
charissa,  who  it  seems  had  always  entertained  an  ardent  though 
secret  attachment  for  him,  which  he  fortunately  discovered  just 
after  coming  to  his  estate. 


258  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


"  I  find,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  little  given  to  the  sin  of  author 
ship,  which  I  renounce  :  if  the  anecdotes  I  have  given  you  of  my 
story  are  of  any  interest,  you  may  make  use  of  them ;  but  come 
down  to  Doubting  Castle,  and  see  how  we  live,  and  I'll  give  you 
my  whole  London  life  over  a  social  glass  ;  and  a  rattling  history 
it  shall  be  about  authors  and  reviewers." 

If  ever  I  visit  Doubting  Castle  and  get  the  history  he  prom 
ises,  the  public  shall  be  sure  to  hear  of  it. 


PART  III. 


THE  ITALIAN   BANDITTI 


THE  INN  AT  TERRACINA. 

CRACK  !•  crack !  crack !  crack !  crack ! 

"  Here  comes  the  estafette  from  Naples,"  said  mine  host  of 
the  inn  at  Terracina ;  "  bring  out  the  relay." 

The  estafette  came  galloping  up  the  road  according  to  custom, 
brandishing  over  his  head  a  short-handled  whip,  with  a  long, 
knotted  lash,  every  smack  of  which  made  a  report  like  a  pistol. 
He  was  a  tight,  square-set  young  fellow,  in  the  usual  uniform :  a 
smart  blue  coat,  ornamented  with  facings  and  gold  lace,  but  so 
short  behind  as  to  reach  scarcely  below  his  waistband,  and 
cocked  up  not  unlike  the  tail  of  a  wren ;  a  cocked  hat  edged 
with  gold  lace ;  a  pair  of  stiff  riding-boots ;  but,  instead  of  the 
usual  leathern  breeches,  he  had  a  fragment  of  a  pair  of  drawers, 
that  scarcely  furnished  an  apology  for  modesty  to  hide  behind. 

The  estafette  galloped  up  to  the  door,  and  jumped  from  his 
horse. 

"  A  glass  of  rosolio,  a  fresh  horse,  and  a  pair  of  breeches," 
said  he,  "  and  quickly,  per  I'amor  di  Dio,  I  am  behind  my  time, 
and  must  be  off !" 

"  San  Gennaro !"  replied  the  host ;  "  why,  where  hast  thou 
left  thy  garment?" 

"  Among  the  robbers  between  this  and  Fondi." 

"  What,  rob  an  estafette  !  I  never  heard  of  such  folly.  What 
could  they  hope  to  get  from  thee  ?" 


262  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


"  My  leather  breeches  !"  replied  the  estafette.  "  They  were 
bran  new,  and  shone  like  gold,  and  hit  the  fancy  of  the  captain." 

"Well,  these  fellows  grow  worse  and  worse.  To  meddle 
with  an  estafette  !  and  that  merely  for  the  sake  of  a  pair  of 
leather  breeches !" 

The  robbing  of  the  government  messenger  seemed  to  strike 
the  host  with  more  astonishment  than  any  other  enormity  that 
had  taken  place  on  the  road ;  and,  indeed,  it  was  the  first  time  so 
wanton  an  outrage  had  been  committed ;  the  robbers  generally 
taking  care  not  to  meddle  with  any  thing  belonging  to  govern 
ment. 

The  estafette  was  by  this  time  equipped,  for  he  had  not  lost 
an  instant  in  making  his  preparations  while  talking.  The  relay 
was  ready ;  the  rosolio  tossed  off ;  he  grasped  the  reins  and  the 
stirrup. 

"  Were  there  many  robbers  in  the  band  ?"  said  a  handsome, 
dark  young  man,  stepping  forward  from  the  door  of  the  inn. 

"  As  formidable  a  band  as  ever  I  saw,"  said  the  estafette, 
springing  into  the  saddle. 

"  Are  they  cruel  to  travellers  ?"  said  a  beautiful  young  Vene 
tian  lady,  who  had  been  hanging  on  the  gentleman's  arm. 

"  Cruel,  signora !"  echoed  the  estafette,  giving  a  glance  at  the 
lady  as  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse.  "  Corpo  di  Bacco !  They 

stiletto  all  the  men  ;  and,  as  to  the  women "  Crack  !  crack ! 

crack !  crack !  crack ! — The  last  words  were  drowned  in  the 
smacking  of  the  whip,  and  away  galloped  the  estafette  along  the 
road  to  the  Ponfine  marshes. 

"Holy  Virgin!"  ejaculated  the  fair  Venetian,  "what  will 
become  of  us !" 

The  inn  of  which  we  are  speaking  stands  just  outside  of  the 


THE   INN  AT   TERRACINA.  263 


walls  of  Terracina,  under  a  vast  precipitous  height  of  rocks, 
crowned  with  the  ruins  of  the  castle  of  Theodric  the  Goth.  The 
situation  of  Terracina  is  remarkable.  It  is  a  little,  ancient,  lazy 
Italian  town,  on  the  frontiers  of  the  Roman  territory.  There 
seems  to  be  an  idle  pause  in  every  thing  about  the  place.  The 
Mediterranean  spreads  before  it — that  sea  without  flux  or  reflux. 
The  port  is  without  a  sail,  excepting  that  once  in  a  while  a  soli 
tary  felucca  may  be  seen  disgorging  its  holy  cargo  of  baccala,  or 
codfish,  the  meagre  provision  for  the  quaresima,  or  Lent.  The 
inhabitants  are  apparently  a  listless,  heedless  race,  as  people  of 
soft  sunny  climates  are  apt  to  be ;  but  under  this  passive,  indolent 
exterior  are  said  to  lurk  dangerous  qualities.  They  are  supposed 
by  many  to  be  little  better  than  the  banditti  of  the  neighboring 
mountains,  and  indeed  to  hold  a  secret  correspondence  with  them. 
The  solitary  watchtowers,  erected  here  and  there  along  the  coast, 
speak  of  pirates  and  corsairs  that  hover  about  these  shores ;  while 
the  low  huts,  as  stations  for  soldiers,  which  dot  the  distant  road,  as 
it  winds  up  through  an  olive  grove,  intimate  that  in  the  ascent 
there  is  danger  for  the  traveller,  and  facility  for  the  bandit.  In 
deed,  it  is  between  this  town  and  Fondi  that  the  road  to  Naples 
is  most  infested  by  banditti.  It  has  several  winding  and  solitary 
places,  where  the  robbers  are  enabled  to  see  the  traveller  from  a 
distance,  from  the  brows  of  hills  or  impending  precipices,  and  to 
lie  in  wait  for  him  at  lonely  and  difficult  passes. 

The  Italian  robbers  are  a  desperate  class  of  men,  that  have 
almost  formed  themselves  into  an  order  of  society.  They  wear 
a  kind  of  uniform,  or  rather  costume,  which  openly  designates 
their  profession.  This  is  probably  done  to  diminish  its  skulking, 
lawless  character,  and  to  give  it  something  of  a  military  air  in 
the  eyes  of  the  common  people ;  or,  perhaps,  to  catch  by  outward 


264  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


show  and  finery  the  fancies  of  the  young  men  of  the  villages,  and 
thus  to  gain  recruits.  Their  dresses  are  often  very  rich  and  pic 
turesque.  They  wear  jackets  and  breeches  of  bright  colors, 
sometimes  gayly  embroidered;  their  breasts  are  covered  with 
medals  and  relics ;  their  hats  are  broad-brimmed,  with  conical 
crowns,  decorated  with  feathers,  or  variously-colored  ribands; 
their  hair  is  sometimes  gathered  in  silk  nets ;  they  wear  a  kind 
of  sandal  of  cloth  or  leather,  bound  round  the  legs  with  thongs, 
and  extremely  flexible,  to  enable  them  to  scramble  with  ease  and 
celerity  among  the  mountain  precipices ;  a  broad  belt  of  cloth,  or 
a  sash  of  silk  net,  is  stuck  full  of  pistols  and  stilettos ;  a  carbine 
is  slung  at  the  back  ;  while  about  them  is  generally  thrown,  in  a 
negligent  manner,  a  great  dingy  mantle,  which  serves  as  a  pro 
tection  in  storms,  or  a  bed  in  their  bivouacs  among  the  mountains. 
They  range  over  a  great  extent  of  wild  country,  along  the 
chain  of  Apennines,  bordering  on  different  states ;  they  know  all 
the  difficult  passes,  the  short  cuts  for  retreat,  and  the  impracticable 
*  forests  of  the  mountain  summits,  where  no  force  dare  follow 
them.  They  are  secure  of  the  good-will  of  the  inhabitants  of 
those  regions,  a  poor  and  semi-barbarous  race,  whom  they  never 
disturb  and  often  enrich.  Indeed,  they  are  considered  as  a  sort 
of  illegitimate  heroes  among  the  mountain  villages,  and  in  certain 
frontier  towns  where  they  dispose  of  their  plunder.  Thus  coun 
tenanced,  and  sheltered,  and  secure  in  the  fastnesses  of  their 
mountains,  the  robbers  have  set  the  weak  police  of  the  Italian 
states  at  defiance.  It  is  in  vain  that  their  names  and  descriptions 
are  posted  on  the  doors  of  country  churches,  and  rewards  offered 
for  them  alive  or  dead ;  the  villagers  are  either  too  much  awed 
by  the  terrible  instances  of  vengeance  inflicted  by  the  brigands,  or 
have  too  good  an  understanding  with  them  to  be  their  betrayers. 


THE   INN   AT   TERRACINA.  265 


It  is  true  they  are  now  and  then  hunted  and  shot  down  like  beasts 
of  prey  by  the  gens-d'armes,  their  heads  put  in  iron  cages,  and 
stuck  upon  posts  by  the  road-side,  or  their  limbs  hung  up  to 
blacken  in  the  trees  near  the  places  where  they  have  committed 
their  atrocities ;  but  these  ghastly  spectacles  only  serve  to  make 
some  dreary  pass  of  the  road  still  more  dreary,  and  to  dismay 
the  traveller,  without  deterring  the  bandit. 

At  the  time  that  the  estafette  made  his  sudden  appearance, 
almost  in  cuerpo,  as  has  been  mentioned,  the  audacity  of  the  rob 
bers  had  risen  to  an  unparalleled  height.  They  had  laid  villas 
under  contribution  ;  they  had  sent  messages  into  country  towns, 
to  tradesmen  and  rich  burghers,  demanding  supplies  of  money, 
of  clothing,  or  even  of  luxuries,  with  menaces  of  vengeance  in 
case  of  refusal.  They  had  their  spies  and  emissaries  in  every 
town,  village,  and  inn,  along  the  principal  roads,  to  give  them 
notice  of  the  movements  and  quality  of  travellers.  They  had 
plundered  carriages,  carried  people  of  rank  and  fortune  into  the 
mountains,  and  obliged  them  to  write  for  heavy  ransoms,  and  had 
committed  outrages  on  females  who  had  fallen  into  their  hands. 

Such  was  briefly  the  state  of  the  robbers,  or  rather  such  was 
the  account  of  the  rumors  prevalent  concerning  them,  when  the 
scene  took  place  at  the  inn  of  Terracina.  The  dark  handsome 
young  man,  and  the  Venetian  lady,  incidentally  mentioned,  had 
arrived  early  that  afternoon  in  a  private  carriage  drawn  by  mules, 
and  attended  by  a  single  servant.  They  had  been  recently  mar 
ried,  were  spending  the  honeymoon  in  travelling  through  these 
delicious  countries,  and  were  on  their  way  to  visit  a  rich  aunt  of 
the  bride  at  Naples. 

The  lady  was  young,  and  tender,  and  timid.  The  stories  she 
had  heard  along  the  road  had  filled  her  with  apprehension,  not 

12 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


more  for  herself  than  for  her  husband  ;  for  though  she  had  been 
married  almost  a  month,  she  still  loved  him  almost  to  idolatry. 
When  she  reached  Terracina,  the  rumors  of  the  road  had  in 
creased  to  an  alarming  magnitude ;  and  the  sight  of  two  robbers' 
skulls,  grinning  in  iron  cages,  on  each  side  of  the  old  gateway  of 
the  town,  brought  her  to  a  pause.  Her  husband  had  tried  in  vain 
to  reassure  her;  they  had  lingered  all  the  afternoon  at  the  inn, 
until  it  was  too  late  to  think  of  starting  that  evening,  and  the 
parting  words  of  the  estafette  completed  her  affright. 

"  Let  us  return  to  Rome,"  said  she,  putting  her  arm  within 
her  husband's,  and  drawing  towards  him  as  if  for  protection. — 
"  Let  us  return  to  Rome,  and  give  up  this  visit  to  Naples." 

"  And  give  up  the  visit  to  your  aunt  too  ?"  said  the  husband. 

"  Nay — what  is  my  aunt  in  comparison  with  your  safety  ?" 
said  she,  looking  up  tenderly  in  his  face. 

There  was  something  in  her  tone  and  manner  that  showed  she 
really  was  thinking  more  of  her  husband's  safety  at  the  moment 
than  of  her  own ;  and  being  so  recently  married,  and  a  match  of 
pure  affection  too,  it  is  very  possible  that  she  was :  at  least  her 
husband  thought  so.  Indeed  any  one  who  has  heard  the  sweet 
musical  tone  of  a  Venetian  voice,  and  the  melting  tenderness  of 
a  Venetian  phrase,  and  felt  the  soft  witchery  of  a  Venetian  eye, 
would  not  wonder  at  the  husband's  believing  whatever  they  pro 
fessed.  He  clasped  the  white  hand  that  had  been  laid  within  his, 
put  his  arm  round  her  slender  waist,  and  drawing  her  fondly  to 
his  bosom,  "  This  night,  at  least,"  said  he,  "  we  will  pass  at  Ter 
racina." 

Crack !  crack  !  crack  !  crack  !  crack !  Another  apparition 
of  the  road  attracted  the  attention  of  mine  host  and  his  guests. 
From  the  direction  of  the  Pontine  marshes,  a  carriage,  drawn  by 


THE   INN   AT   TERRACINA.  267 


half  a  dozen  horses,  came  driving  at  a  furious  rate  ;  the  postil 
ions  smacking  their  whips  like  mad,  as  is  the  case  when  conscious 
of  the  greatness  or  of  the  munificence  of  their  fare.  It  was  a 
landaulet  with  a  servant  mounted  on  the  dickey.  The  compact, 
highly-finished,  yet  proudly  simple  construction  of  the  carriage  ; 
the  quantity  of  neat,  well-arranged  trunks  and  conveniences  ;  the 
loads  of  box-coats  on  the  dickey ;  the  fresh,  burly,  bluff-looking 
face  of  the  master  at  the  window  ;  and  the  ruddy,  round-headed 
servant,  in  close-cropped  hair,  short  coat,  drab  breeches,  and  long 
gaiters,  all  proclaimed  at  once  that  this  was  the  equipage  of  an 
Englishman. 

"  Horses  to  Fondi,"  said  the  Englishman,  as  the  landlord 
came  bowing  to  the  carriage  door. 

"Would  not  his  Excellenza  alight,  and  take  some  refresh 
ments  ?" 

"  No — he  did  not  mean  to  eat  until  he  got  to  Fondi." 
"  But  the  horses  will  be  some  time  in  getting  ready." 
"  Ah !    that's  always  the  way ;    nothing   but   delay  in  this 
cursed  country." 

"  If  his  Excellenza  would  only  walk  into  the  house " 

"  No,  no,  no  ! — I  tell  you  no  ! — I  want  nothing  but  horses,  and 
as  quick  as  possible.  John,  see  that  the  horses  are  got  ready,  and 
don't  let  us  be  kept  here  an  hour  or  two.  Tell  him  if  we're 
delayed  over  the  time,  I'll  lodge  a  complaint  with  the  post 
master." 

John  touched  his  hat,  and  set  off  to  obey  his  master's  orders 
with  the  taciturn  obedience  of  an  English  servant. 

In  the  meantime  the  Englishman  got  out  of  the  carriage,  and 
walked  up  and  down  before  the  inn  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,- 
taking  no  notice  of  the  crowd  of  idlers  who  were  gazing  at  him 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


and  his  equipage.  He  was  tall,  stout,  and  well  made  ;  dressed 
with  neatness  and  precision  ;  wore  a  travelling  cap  of  the  color 
of  gingerbread  ;  and  had  rather  an  unhappy  expression  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  :  partly  from  not  having  yet  made  his  din 
ner,  and  partly  from  not  having  been^able  to  get  on  at  a  greater 
rate  than  seven  miles  an  hour.  Not  that  he  had  any  other  cause 
for  haste  than  an  Englishman's  usual  hurry  to  get  to  the  end  of 
a  journey  ;  or,  to  use  the  regular  phrase,  "  to  get  on."  Perhaps 
too  he  was  a  little  sore  from  having  been  fleeced  at  every  stage. 

After  some  time,  the  servant  returned  from  the  stable  with  a 
look  of  some  perplexity. 

"  Are  the  horses  ready,  John  ?" 

"  No,  sir — I  never  saw  such  a  place.  There's  no  getting  any 
thing  done.  I  think  your  honor  had  better  step  into  the  house 
and  get  something  to  eat ;  it  will  be  a  long  while  before  we  get 
to  Fundy." 

"  D — n  the  house — it's  a  mere  trick — I'll  not  eat  any  thing, 
just  to  spite  them,"  said  the  Englishman,  still  more  crusty  at  the 
prospect  of  being  so  long  without  his  dinner. 

"  They  say  your  honor's  very  wrong,"  said  John,  "  to  set  off 
at  this  late  hour.  The  road's  full  of  highwaymen." 

"  Mere  tales  to  get  custom." 

"  The  estafette  which  passed  us  was  stopped  by  a  whole  gang," 
said  John,  increasing  his  emphasis  with  each  additional  piece  of 
information. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

"  They  robbed  him  of  his  breeches,"  said  John,  giving  at  the 
same  time  a  hitch  to  his  own  waistband. 

"  All  humbug !" 

Here  the  dark  handsome  young  man  stepped  forward,  and 


THE   INN   AT   TERRACINA. 


addressing   the    Englishman  very  politely,  in   broken  English, 
invited  him  to  partake  of  a  repast  he  was  about  to  make. 

"  Thank'ee,"  said  the  Englishman,  thrusting  his  hands  deeper 
into  his  pockets,  and  casting  a  slight  side-glance  of  suspicion  at  the 
young  man,  as  if  he  thought,  from  his  civility,  he  must  have  a 
design  upon  his  purse. 

"  We  shall  be  most  happy,  if  you  will  do  us  the  favor,"  said 
the  lady  in  her  soft  Venetian  dialect.  There  was  a  sweetness 
in  her  accents  that  was  most  persuasive.  The  Englishman  cast 
a  look  upon  her  countenance  ;  her  beauty  was  still  more  eloquent. 
His  features  instantly  relaxed.  He  made  a  polite  bow.  "  With 
great  pleasure,  Signora,"  said  he. 

In  short,  the  eagerness  to  "  get  on  "  was  suddenly  slackened  ; 
the  determination  to  famish  himself  as  far  as  Fondi,  by  way  of 
punishing  the  landlord,  was  abandoned  ;  John  chose  an  apartment 
in  the  inn  for  his  master's  reception  ;  and  preparations  were 
made  to  remain  there  until  morning. 

The  carriage  was  unpacked  of  such  of  its  contents  as  were 
indispensable  for  the  night.  There  was  the  usual  parade  of 
trunks  and  writing-desks,  and  portfolios  and  dressing-boxes,  and 
those  other  oppressive  conveniences  which  burden  a  comfortable 
man.  The  observant  loiterers  about  the  inn-door,  wrapped  up  in 
great  dirt-colored  cloaks,  with  only  a  hawk's  eye  uncovered,  made 
many  remarks  to  each  other  on  this  quantity  of  luggage  that 
seemed  enough  for  an  army.  The  domestics  of  the  inn  talked 
with  wonder  of  the  splendid  dressing-case,  with  its  gold  and  silver 
furniture,  that  was  spread  out  on  the  toilet-table,  and  the  bag  of 
gold  that  chinked  as  it  was  taken  out  of  the  trunk.  The  strange 
Milor's  wealth,  and  the  treasures  he  carried  about  him,  were  the* 
talk,  that  evening,  over  all  Terracina. 


270  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

The  Englishman  took  some  time  to  make  his  ablutions  and 
arrange  his  dress  for  table ;  and,  after  considerable  labor  and 
effort  in  putting  himself  at  his  ease,  made  his  appearance,  with 
stiff  white  cravat,  his  clothes  free  from  the  least  speck  of  dust, 
and  adjusted  with  precision.  He  made  a  civil  bow  on  entering, 
in  the  unprofessing  English  way,  which  the  fair  Venetian,  accus 
tomed  to  the  complimentary  salutations  of  the  continent,  con 
sidered  extremely  cold. 

The  supper,  as  it  was  termed  by  the  Italian,  or  dinner,  as  the 
Englishman  called  it,  was  now  served :  heaven  and  earth,  and 
the  waters  under  the  earth,  had  been  moved  to  furnish  it ;  for 
there  were  birds  of  the  air,  and  beasts  of  the  field,  and  fish  of 
the  sea.  The  Englishman's  servant,  too,  had  turned  the  kitchen 
topsy-turvy  in  his  zeal  to  cook  his  master  a  beefsteak ;  and  made 
his  appearance,  loaded  with  ketchup,  and  soy,  and  Cayenne  pep 
per,  and  Harvey  sauce,  and  a  bottle  of  port  wine,  from  that  ware 
house,  the  carriage,  in  which  his  master  seemed  desirous  of  car 
rying  England  about  the  world  with  him.  Indeed  the  repast  was 
one  of  those  Italian  farragoes  which  require  a  little  qualifying. 
The  tureen  of  soup  was  a  black  sea,  with  livers,  and  limbs,  and 
fragments  of  all  kinds  of  birds  and  beasts  floating  like  wrecks 
about  it.  A  meagre  winged  animal,  which  my  host  called  a  deli 
cate  chicken,  had  evidently  died  of  a  consumption.  The  maca 
roni  was  smoked.  The  beefsteak  was  tough  buffalo's  flesh. 
There  was  what  appeared  to  be  a  dish  of  stewed  eels,  of  which 
the  Englishman  ate  with  great  relish ;  but  had  nearly  refunded 
them  when  told  that  they  were  vipers,  caught  among  the  rocks  of 
Terracina,  and  esteemed  a  great  delicacy. 

Nothing,  however,  conquers  a  traveller's  spleen  sooner  than 
eating,  whatever  may  be  the  cookery ;  and  nothing  brings  him 


THE   INN  AT   TERRACINA.  271 


into  good  humor  with  his  company  sooner  than  eating  together : 
the  Englishman,  therefore,  had  not  half  finished  his  repast  and 
his  bottle,  before  he  began  to  think  the  Venetian  a  very  tolerable 
fellow  for  a  foreigner,  and  his  wife  almost  handsome  enough  to 
be  an  Englishwoman. 

In  the  course  of  the  repast,  the  usual  topics  of  travellers  rae^e 
discussed,  and  among  others,  the  reports  of  robbers,  whicn  ha 
rassed  the  mind  of  the  fair  Venetian.  The  landlord  and  waiter 
dipped  into  the  conversation  with  that  familiarity  permitted  on  the 
continent,  and  served  up  so  many  bloody  tales  as  they  served  up 
the  dishes,  that  they  almost  frightened  away  the  poor  lady's 
appetite. 

The  Englishman,  who  had  a  national  antipathy  to  every  thing 
technically  called  "  humbug,"  listened  to  them  all  with  a  certain 
screw  of  the  mouth,  expressive  of  incredulity.  There  was  the 
well-known  story  of  the  school  of  Terracina,  captured  by  the 
robbers ;  and  one  of  the  scholars  coolly  massacred,  in  order  to 
bring  the  parents  to  terms  for  the  ransom  of  the  rest.  And 
another,  of  a  gentleman  of  Rome,  who  received  his  son's  ear 
in  a  letter,  with  information,  that  his  son  would  be  remitted 
to  him  in  this  way,  by  instalments,  until  he  paid  the  required 
ransom. 

The  fair  Venetian  shuddered  as  she  heard  these  tales  ;  and 
the  landlord,  like  a  true  narrator  of  the  terrible,  doubled  the  dose 
when  he  saw  how  it  operated.  He  was  just  proceeding  to  relate 
the  misfortunes  of  a  great  English  lord  and  his  family,  when 
the  Englishman,  tired  of  his  volubility,  interrupted  him,  and  pro 
nounced  these  accounts  to  be  mere  travellers'  tales,  or  the  ex 
aggerations  of  ignorant  peasants  and  designing  innkeepers.  The 
landlord  was  indignant  at  the  doubt  levelled  at  his  stories,  and 


272  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


the  innuendo  levelled  at  his  cloth  ;  he  cited,  in  corroboration, 
half  a  dozen  tales  still  more  terrible. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  them,"  said  the  Englishman. 

"  But  the  robbers  have  been  tried  and  executed  !" 

"  All  a  farce  !" 

"But  their  heads  are  stuck  up  along  the  road !" 

"  Old  skulls  accumulated  during  a  century." 

"  The  landlord  muttered  to  himself  as  he  went  out  at  the  door, 
"  San  Gennaro  !  quanto  sono  singolari  questi  Inglesi !" 

A  fresh  hubbub  outside  of  the  inn  announced  the  arrival  of 
more  travellers ;  and,  from  the  variety  of  voices,  or  rather  of 
clamors,  the  clattering  of  hoofs,  the  rattling  of  wheels,  and  the 
general  uproar  both  within  and  without,  the  arrival  seemed  to  be 
numerous. 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  procaccio  and  its  convoy ;  a  kind  of  cara 
van  which  sets  out  on  certain  days  for  the  transportation  of  mer 
chandise,  with  an  escort  of  soldiery  to  protect  it  from  the  robbers. 
Travellers  avail  themselves  of  its  protection,  and  a  long  file  of 
carriages  generally  accompany  it. 

A  considerable  time  elapsed  before  either  landlord  or  waiter 
returned ;  being  hurried  hither  and  thither  by  that  tempest  of 
noise  and  bustle,  which  takes  place  in  an  Italian  inn  on  the 
arrival  of  any  considerable  accession  of  custom.  When  mine 
host  reappeared,  there  was  a  smile  of  triumph  on  his  counte 
nance. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  he,  as  he  cleared  the  table ;  "  perhaps  the 
signer  has  not  heard  of  what  has  happened  ?" 

"  What  ?"  said  the  Englishman,  dryly. 

"  Why,  the  procaccio  has  brought  accounts  of  fresh  exploits 
of  the  robbers." 


THE   INN   AT   TERRACINA.  273 


«  Pish !" 

"  There's  more  news  of  the  English  Milor  and  his  family," 
said  the  host  exultingly. 

"  An  English  lord?  What  English  lord  ?" 

"  Milor  Popkin." 

"  Lord  Popkins  ?     I  never  heard  of  such  a  title  !" 

"  0  sicuro  !  a  great  nobleman,  who  passed  through  here  lately 
with  mi  ladi  and  her  daughters.  A  magnifico,  one  of  the  grand 
counsellors  of  London,  an  almanno !" 

"  Almanno — almanno  ? — tut — he  means  alderman." 

"  Sicuro — Aldermanno  Popkin,  and  the  Principessa  Popkin, 
and  the  Signorine  Popkin  ?"  said  mine  host,  triumphantly. 

He  now  put  himself  into  an  attitude,  and  would  have  launched 
into  a  full  detail,  had  he  not  been  thwarted  by  the  Englishman, 
who  seemed  determined  neither  to  credit  nor  indulge  him  in  his 
stories,  but  dryly  motioned  for  him  to  clear  away  the  table. 

An  Italian  tongue,  however,  is  not  easily  checked ;  that  of 
mine  host  continued  to  wag  with  increasing  volubility,  as  he  con 
veyed  the  relics  of  the  repast  out  of  the  room  ;  and  the  last  that 
could  be  distinguished  of  his  voice,  as  it  died  away  along  the 
corridor,  was  the  iteration  of  the  favorite  word,  Popkin — Popkin 
— Popkin — pop — pop — pop. 

The  arrival  of  the  procaccio  had,  indeed,  filled  the  house  with 
stories,  as  it  had  with  guests.  The  Englishman  and  his  compan 
ions  walked  after  supper  up  and  down  the  large  hall,  or  common 
room  of  the  inn,  which  ran  through  the  centre  of  the  building. 
It  was  spacious  and  somewhat  dirty,  with  tables  placed  in  various 
parts,  at  which  groups  of  travellers  were  seated;  while  others 
strolled  about,  waiting,  in  famished  impatience,  for  their  evening's 
meal. 

12* 


274  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


It  was  a  heterogeneous  assemblage  of  people  of  all  ranks  and 
countries,  who  had  arrived  in  all  kinds  of  vehicles.  Though  dis 
tinct  knots  of  travellers,  yet  the  travelling  together,  under  one 
common  escort,  had  jumbled  them  into  a  certain  degree  of  com 
panionship  on  the  road ;  besides,  on  the  continent  travellers  are 
always  familiar,  and  nothing  is  more  motley  than  the  groups 
which  gather  casually  together  in  sociable  conversation  in  the 
public  rooms  of  inns. 

The  formidable  number,  and  formidable  guard  of  the  pro- 
caccio  had  prevented  any  molestation  from  banditti ;  but  every 
party  of  travellers  had  its  tale  of  wonder,  and  one  carriage  vied 
with  another  in  its  budget  of  assertions  and  surmises.  Fierce, 
whiskered  faces  had  been  seen  peering  over  the  rocks  ;  carbines 
and  stilettos  gleaming  from  among  the  bushes  ;  suspicious-looking 
fellows,  with  flapped  hats,  and  scowling  eyes,  had  occasionally 
reconnoitred  a  straggling  carriage,  but  had  disappeared  on  seeing 
the  guard. 

The  fair  Venetian  listened  to  all  these  stories  with  that  avidity 
with  which  we  always  pamper  any  feeling  of  alarm  ;  even  the 
Englishman  began  to  feel  interested  in  the  common  topic,  and 
desirous  of  getting  more  correct  information  than  mere  flying  re 
ports.  Conquering,  therefore,  that  shyness  which  is  prone  to 
keep  an  Englishman  solitary  in  crowds,  he  approached  one  of  the 
talking  groups,  the  oracle  of  which  was  a  tall,  thin  Italian,  with 
long  aquiline  nose,  a  high  forehead,  and  lively  prominent  eye, 
beaming  from  under  a  green  velvet  travelling  cap,  with  gold  tassel. 
He  was  of  Rome,  a  surgeon  by  profession,  a  poet  by  choice,  and 
something  of  an  improvisatore. 

In  the  present  instance,  however,  he  was  talking  in  plain 


THE    INN  AT   TERRACINA.  275 


prose,  but  holding  forth  with  the  fluency  of  one  who  talks  well, 
and  likes  to  exert  his  talent.  A  question  or  two  from  the  Eng 
lishman  drew  copious  replies ;  for  an  Englishman  sociable  among 
strangers  is  regarded  as  a  phenomenon  on  the  continent,  and 
always  treated  with  attention  for  the  rarity's  sake.  The  impro- 
visatore  gave  much  the  same  account  of  the  banditti  that  I  have 
already  furnished. 

"  But  why  does  not  the  police  exert  itself,  and  root  them  out  ?" 
demanded  the  Englishman. 

"  Because  the  police  is  too  weak,  and  the  banditti  are  too 
strong,"  replied  the  other.  "  To  root  them  out  would  be  a  more 
difficult  task  than  you  imagine.  They  are  connected  and  almost 
identified  with  the  mountain  peasantry  and  the  people  of  the 
villages.  The  numerous  bands  have  an  understanding  with  each 
other,  and  with  the  country  round.  A  gendarme  cannot  stir 
without  their  being  aware  of  it.  They  have  their  scouts  every 
where,  who  lurk  about  towns,  villages,  and  inns,  mingle  in  every 
crowd,  and  pervade  every  place  of  resort.  I  should  not  be  sur 
prised  if  some  one  should  be  supervising  us  at  this  moment." 

The  fair  Venetian  looked  round  fearfully,  and  turned  pale. 

Here  the  improvisatore  was  interrupted  by  a  lively  Neapoli 
tan  lawyer. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  he,  "  I  recollect  a  little  adventure  of  a 
learned  doctor,  a  friend  of  mine,  which  happened  in  this  very 
neighborhood ;  not  far  from  the  ruins  of  Theodric's  Castle, 
which  are  on  the  top  of  those  great  rocky  heights  above  the 
town." 

A  wish  was,  of  course,  expressed  to  hear  the  adventure  of  the 
doctor  by  all  excepting  the  improvisatore,  who,  being  fond  of  talk- 


276  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


ing  and  of  hearing  himself  talk,  and  accustomed,  moreover,  to 
harangue  without  interruption,  looked  rather  annoyed  at  being 
checked  when  in  full  career.  The  Neapolitan,  however,  took  no 
notice  of  his  chagrin,  but  related  the  following  anecdote. 


V 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  LITTLE  ANTIQUARY. 

MY  friend,  the  Doctor,  was  a  thorough  antiquary ;  a  little  rusty, 
musty  old  fellow,  always  groping  among  ruins.  He  relished  a 
building  as  you  Englishmen  relish  a  cheese, — the  more  mouldy 
and  crumbling  it  was,  the  more  it  suited  his  taste.  A  shell  of 
an  old  nameless  temple,  or  the  cracked  walls  of  a  broken-down 
amphitheatre,  would  throw  him  into  raptures ;  and  he  took  more 
delight  in  these  crusts  and  cheese-parings  of  antiquity,  than  in 
the  best-conditioned  modern  palaces. 

He  was  a  curious  collector  of  coins  also,  and  had  just  gained 
an  accession  of  wealth  that  almost  turned  his  brain.  He  had 
picked  up,  for  instance,  several  Roman  Consulars,  half  a  Roman 
As,  two  Punics,  which  had  doubtless  belonged  to  the  soldiers  of 
Hannibal,  having  been  found  on  the  very  spot  where  they  had 
encamped  among  the  Apennines.  He  had,  moreover,  one  Sam- 
nite,  struck  after  the  Social  War,  and  a  Philistis,  a  queen  that 
never  existed ;  but  above  all,  he  valued  himself  upon  a  coin, 
indescribable  to  any  but  the  initiated  in  these  matters,  bearing  a 
cross  on  one  side,  and  a  pegasus  on  the  other,  and  which,  by 
some  antiquarian  logic,  the  little  man  adduced  as  an  historical 
document,  illustrating  the  progress  of  Christianity. 

All  these  precious  coins  he  carried  about  him  in  a  leathern 
purse,  buried  deep  in  a  pocket  of  his  little  black  breeches. 


278  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


The  last  maggot  he  had  taken  into  his  brain,  was  to  hunt  after 
the  ancient  cities  of  the  Pelasgi,  which  are  said  to  exist  to  this 
day  among  the  mountains  of  the  Abruzzi ;  but  about  which  a 
singular  degree  of  obscurity  prevails.*  He  had  made  many  dis- 


*  Among  the  many  fond  speculations  of  antiquaries  is  that  of  the  existence 
of  traces  of  the  ancient  Pelasgian  cities  in  the  Apennines  ;  and  many  a  wistful 
eye  is  cast  by  the  traveller,  versed  in  antiquarian  lore,  at  the  richly-wooded 
mountains  of  the  Abruzzi,  as  a  forbidden  fairy  land  of  research.  These  spots, 
so  beautiful,  yet  so  inaccessible,  from  the  rudeness  of  their  inhabitants  and  the 
hordes  of  banditti  which  infest  them,  are  a  region  of  fable  to  the  learned. 
Sometimes  a  wealthy  virtuoso,  whose  purse  and  whose  consequence  could 
command  a  military  escort,  has  penetrated  to  some  individual  point  among  the 
mountains  ;  and  sometimes  a  wandering  artist  or  student,  under  protection  of 
poverty  or  insignificance,  has  brought  away  some  vague  account,  only  calculated 
to  give  a  keener  edge  to  curiosity  and  conjecture. 

By  those  who  maintain  the  existence  of  the  Pelasgian  cities,  it  is  affirmed, 
that  the  formation  of  the  different  kingdoms  in  the  Peloponnesus  gradually 
caused  the  expulsion  thence  of  the  Pelasgi ;  but  that  their  great  migration  may 
be  dated  from  the  finishing  the  wall  round  Acropolis,  and  that  at  this  period 
they  came  to  Italy.  To  these,  in  the  spirit  of  theory,  they  would  ascribe  the 
introduction  of  the  elegant  arts  into  the  country.  It  is  evident,  however,  that, 
as  barbarians  flying  before  the  first  dawn  of  civilization,  they  could  bring  little 
with  them  superior  to  the  inventions  of  the  aborigines,  and  nothing  that  would 
have  survived  to  the  antiquarian  through  such  a  lapse  of  ages.  It  would 
appear  more  probable,  that  these  cities,  improperly  termed  Pelasgian,  were 
coeval  with  many  that  have  been  discovered.  The  romantic  Aricia,  built  by 
Hippolytus  before  the  siege  of  Troy,  and  the  poetic  Tibur,  ^Esculate  and 
Proenes,  built  by  Telegonus  after  the  dispersion  of  the  Greeks  ; — these,  lying 
contiguous  to  inhabited  and  cultivated  spots,  have  been  discovered.  There  are 
others,  too,  on  the  ruins  of  which  the  later  and  more  civilized  Grecian  colonists 
have  ingrafted  themselves,  and  which  have  become  known  by  their  merits  or 
their  medals.  But  that  there  are  many  still  undiscovered,  imbedded  in  the 


THE   LITTLE   ANTIQUARY.  279 


coveries  concerning  them,  and  had  recorded  a  great  many  valua 
ble  notes  and  memorandums  on  the  subject,  in  a  voluminous  book, 
which  he  always  carried  about  with  him ;  either  for  the  purpose 
of  frequent  reference,  or  through  fear  lest  the  precious  document 
should  fall  into  the  hands  of  brother  antiquaries.  He  had,  there 
fore,  a  large  pocket  in  the  skirt  of  his  coat,  where  he  bore  about 
this  inestimable  tome,  banging  against  his  rear  as  he  walked. 

Thus  heavily  laden  with  the  spoils  of  antiquity,  the  good  little 
man,  during  a  sojourn  at  Terracina,  mounted  one  day  the  rocky 
cliffs  which  overhang  the  town,  to  visit  the  castle  of  Theodric. 
He  was  groping  about  the  ruins  towards  the  hour  of  sunset, 
buried  in  his  reflections,  his  wits  no  doubt  wool-gathering  among 
the  Goths  and  Romans,  when  he  heard  footsteps  behind  him. 

He  turned,  and  beheld  five  or  six  young  fellows,  of  rough, 
saucy  demeanor,  clad  in  a  singular  manner,  half  peasant,  half 
huntsman,  with  carbines  in  their  hands.  Their  whole  appearance 
and  carriage  left  him  no  doubt  into  what  company  he  had  fallen. 

The  Doctor  was  a  feeble  little  man,  poor  in  look,  and  poorer 
in  purse.  He  had  but  little  gold  or  silver  to  be  robbed  of;  but 
then  he  had  his  curious  ancient  coin  in  his  breeches  pocket.  He 
had,  moreover,  certain  other  valuables,  such  as  an  old  silver 
watch,  thick  as  a  turnip,  with  figures  on  it  large  enough  for  a 
clock  ;  and  a  set  of  seals  at  the  end  of  a  steel  chain,  dangling 
half  way  down  to  his  knees.  All  these  were  of  precious  esteem, 
being  family  relics.  He  had  also  a  seal-ring,  a  veritable  antique 
intaglio,  that  covered  half  his  knuckles.  It  was  a  Venus,  which 

Abruzzi,  it  is  the  delight  of  the  antiquarians  to  fancy.  Strange  that  such  a 
virgin  soil  for  research,  such  an  unknown  realm  of  knowledge,  should  at  this 
day  remain  in  the  very  centre  of  hackneyed  Italy ! 


280  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


the  old  man  almost  worshipped  with  the  zeal  of  a  voluptuary.  But 
what  he  most  valued  was  his  inestimable  collection  of  hints  rela 
tive  to  the  Pelasgian  cities,  which  he  would  gladly  have  given  all 
the  money  in  his  pocket  to  have  had  safe  at  the  bottom  of  his 
trunk  in  Terracina. 

However,  he  plucked  up  a  stout  heart,  at  least  as  stout  a  heart 
as  he  could,  seeing  that  he  was  but  a  puny  little  man  at  the  best 
of  times.  So  he  wished  the  hunters  a  "buon  giorno."  They 
returned  his  salutation,  giving  the  old  gentleman  a  sociable  slap 
on  the  back  that  made  his  heart  leap  into  his  throat. 

They  fell  into  conversation,  and  walked  for  some  time  toge 
ther  among  the  heights,  the  Doctor  wishing  them  all  the  while  at 
the  bottom  of  the  crater  of  Vesuvius.  At  length  they  came  to  a 
small  osteria  on  the  mountain,  where  they  proposed  to  enter  and 
have  a  cup  of  wine  together :  the  Doctor  consented,  though  he 
would  as  soon  have  been  invited  to  drink  hemlock. 

One  of  the  gang  remained  sentinel  at  the  door ;  the  others 
swaggered  into  the  house,  stood  their  guns  in  the  corner  of  the 
room,  and  each  drawing  a  pistol  or  stiletto  out  of  his  belt,  laid  it 
upon  the  table.  They  now  drew  benches  round  the  board,  called 
lustily  for  wine,  and,  hailing  the  Doctor  as  though  he  had  been  a 
boon  companion  of  long  standing,  insisted  upon  his  sitting  down 
and  making  merry. 

The  worthy  man  complied  with  forced  grimace,  but  with  fear 
and  trembling ;  sitting  uneasily  on  the  edge  of  his  chair ;  eyeing 
ruefully  the  black-muzzled  pistols,  and  cold,  naked  stilettos  ;  and 
supping  down  heartburn  with  every  drop  of  liquor.  His  new 
comrades,  however,  pushed  the  bottle  bravely,  and  plied  him 
vigorously.  They  sang,  they  laughed ;  told  excellent  stories  of 
their  robberies  and  combats,  mingled  with  many  ruffian  jokes; 


THE   LITTLE   ANTIQUARY.  281 


and  the  little  Doctor  was  fain  to  laugh  at  all  their  cut-throat 
pleasantries,  though  his  heart  was  dying  away  at  the  very  bottom 
of  his  bosom. 

By  their  own  account,  they  were  young  men  from  the  villages, 
who  had  recently  taken  up  this  line  of  life  out  of  the  wild  caprice 
of  youth.  They  talked  of  their  murderous  exploits  as  a  sports 
man  talks  of  his  amusements  :  to  shoot  down  a  traveller  seemed 
of  little  more  consequence  to  them  than  to  shoot  a  hare.  They 
spoke  with  rapture  of  the  glorious  roving  life  they  led,  free  as 
birds  ;  here  to-day,  gone  to-morrow  ;  ranging  the  forests,  climbing 
the  rocks,  scouring  the  valleys ;  the  world  their  own  wherever 
they  could  lay  hold  of  it ;  full  purses — merry  companions — pretty 
women.  The  little  antiquary  got  fuddled  with  their  talk  and 
their  wine,  for  they  did  not  spare  bumpers.  He  half  forgot  his 
fears,  his  seal-ring,  and  his  family -watch  ;  even  the  treatise  on  the 
Pelasgian  cities,  which  was  warming  under  him,  for  a  time  faded 
from  his  memory  in  the  glowing  picture  that  they  drew.  He 
declares  that  he  no  longer  wonders  at  the  prevalence  of  this  rob 
ber  mania  among  the  mountains ;  for  he  felt  at  the  time,  that,  had 
he  been  a  young  man,  and  a  strong  man,  and  had  there  been  no 
danger  of  the  galleys  in  the  background,  he  should  have  been 
half  tempted  himself  to  turn  bandit. 

At  length  the  hour  of  separating  arrived.  The  Doctor  was 
suddenly  called  to  himself  and  his  fears  by  seeing  the  robbers  re 
sume  their  weapons.  He  now  quaked  for  his  valuables,  and, 
above  all,  for  his  antiquarian  treatise.  He  endeavored,  however, 
to  look  cool  and  unconcerned ;  and  drew  from  out  his  deep  pocket 
a  long,  lank,  leathern  purse,  far  gone  in  consumption,  at  the  bot 
tom  of  which  a  few  coin  chinked  with  the  trembling  of  his  hand. 

The  chief  of  the  party  observed  his  movement,  and  laying 


282  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


his  hand  upon  the  antiquary's  shoulder,  "  Harkee  !  Signer  Dot- 
tore  !"  said  he,  "  we  have  drunk  together  as  friends  and  com 
rades ;  let  us  part  as  such.  We  understand  you.  We  know  who 
and  what  you  are,  for  we  know  who  every  body  is  that  sleeps  at 
Terracina,  or  that  puts  foot  upon  the  road.  You  are  a  rich  man, 
but  you  carry  all  your  wealth  in  your  head  :  we  cannot  get  at  it, 
and  we  should  not  know  what  to  do  with  it  if  we  could.  I  see 
you  are  uneasy  about  your  ring;  but  don't  worry  yoursel'f,  it  is 
not  worth  taking ;  you  think  it  an  antique,  but  it's  a  counterfeit — 
a  mere  sham." 

Here  the  ire  of  the  antiquary  rose  :  the  Doctor  forgot  himself 
in  his  zeal  for  the  character  of  his  ring.  Heaven  and  earth !  his 
Venus  a  sham  !  Had  they  pronounced  the  wife  of  his  bosom 
"  no  better  than  she  should  be,"  he  could  not  have  been  more 
indignant.  He  fired  up  in  vindication  of  his  intaglio. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  continued  the  robber,  "  we  have  no  time  to  dis 
pute  about  it ;  value  it  as  you  please.  Come,  you're  a  brave  lit 
tle  old  signor — one  more  cup  of  wine,  and  we'll  pay  the  reckon 
ing.  No  compliments — you  shall  not  pay  a  grain — you  are  our 
guest — I  insist  upon  it.  So — now  make  the  best  of  your  way 
back  to  Terracina ;  it's  growing  late.  Buono  viaggio !  And 
harkee  !  take  care  how  you  wander  among  these  mountains, — 
you  may  not  always  fall  into  such  good  company." 

They  shouldered  their  guns ;  sprang  gayly  up  the  rocks ;  and 
the  little  Doctor  hobbled  back  to  Terracina,  rejoicing  that  the 
robbers  had  left  his  watch,  his  coins,  and  his  treatise,  unmolested ; 
but  still  indignant  that  they  should  have  pronounced  his  Venus 
an  impostor. 


THE   LITTLE   ANTIQUARY. 


The  improvisatore  had  shown  many  symptoms  of  impatience 
during  this  recital.  He  saw  his  theme  in  danger  of  being  taken 
out  of  his  hands,  which  to  an  able  talker  is  always  a  grievance, 
but  to  an  improvisatore  is  an  absolute  calamity :  and  then  for  it 
to  be  taken  away  by  a  Neapolitan,  was  still  more  vexatious ;  the 
inhabitants  of  the  different  Italian  states  having  an  implacable 
jealousy  of  each  other  in  all  things,  great  and  small.  He  took 
advantage  of  the  first  pause  of  the  Neapolitan  to  catch  hold  again 
of  the  thread  of  the  conversation. 

"  As  I  observed  before,"  said  he,  "  the  prowlings  of  the  ban 
ditti  are  so  extensive;  they  are  so  much  in  league  with  one  ano 
ther,  and  so  interwoven  with  various  ranks  of  society " 

"  For  that  matter,"  said  the  Neapolitan,  "  I  have  heard  that 
your  government  has  had  some  understanding  with  those  gentry ; 
or,  at  least,  has  winked  at  their  misdeeds." 

"  My  government  ?"  said  the  Roman,  impatiently. 

"  Ay,  they  say  that  Cardinal  Gonsalvi — " 

"  Hush  !"  said  the  Roman,  holding  up  his  finger,  and  rolling 
his  large  eyes  about  the  room. 

"  Nay,  I  only  repeat  what  I  heard  commonly  rumored  in 
Rome,"  replied  the  Neapolitan,  sturdily.  "  It  was  openly  said, 
that  the  cardinal  had  been  up  to  the  mountains,  and  had  an  inter 
view  with  some  of  the  chiefs.  And  I  have  been  told,  moreover, 
that  while  honest  people  have  been  kicking  their  heels  in  the 
cardinal's  antechamber  waiting  by  the  hour  for  admittance,  one 
of  those  stiletto-looking  fellows  has  elbowed  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  and  entered  without  ceremony  into  the  cardinal's 
presence." 

"  I  know,"  observed  the  improvisatore,  "  that  there  have  been 
such  reports,  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  government  may  have 


284  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


made  use  of  these  men  at  particular  periods :  such  as  at  the  time 
of  your  late  abortive  revolution,  when  your  carbonari  were  so 
busy  with  their  machinations  all  over  the  country.  The  informa 
tion  which  such  men  could  collect,  who  were  familiar,  not  merely 
with  the  recesses  and  secret  places  of  the  mountains,  but  also  with 
the  dark  and  dangerous  recesses  of  society;  who  knew  every 
suspicious  character,  and  all  his  movements  and  all  his  lurkings  ; 
in  a  word,  who  knew  all  that  was  plotting  in  a  world  of  mischi^i ; 
— the  utility  of  such  men  as  instruments  in  the  hands  of  govern 
ment  was  too  obvious  to  be  overlooked ;  and  Cardinal  Gonsalvi, 
as  a  politic  statesman,  may,  perhaps,  have  made  use  of  them. 
Besides,  he  knew  that,  with  all  their  atrocities,  the  robbers  were 
always  respectful  towards  the  church,  and  devout  in  their  religion." 

"  Religion  !  religion  !"  echoed  the  Englishman. 

"Yes,  religion,"  repeated  the  Eoman.  "They  have  each 
their  patron  saint.  They  will  cross  themselves  and  say  their 
prayers,  whenever,  in  their  mountain  haunts,  they  hear  the  matin 
or  the  Ave-Maria  bells  sounding  from  the  valleys  ;  and  will  often 
descend  from  their  retreats,  and  run  imminent  risks  to  visit  some 
favorite  shrine.  I  recollect  an  instance  in  point. 

"  I  was  one  evening  in  the  village  of  Frascati,  which  stands 
on  the  beautiful  brow  of  a  hill  rising  from  the  Campagna,  just 
below  the  Abruzzi  mountains.  The  people,  as  is  usual  in  fine 
evenings  in  our  Italian  towns  and  villages,  were  recreating  them 
selves  in  the  open  air,  and  chatting  in  groups  in  the  public  square. 
/"*"  While  I  was  conversing  with  a  knot  of  friends,  I  noticed  a  tall 
fellow,  wrapped  in  a  great  mantle,  passing  across  the  square,  but 
skulking  along  in  the  dusk,  as  if  anxious  to  avoid  observation. 
The  people  drew  back  as  he  passed.  It  was  whispered  to  me 
that  he  was  a  notorious  bandit." 


THE  LITTLE  ANTIQUARY.  285 


"  But  why  was  he  not  immediately  seized  ?"  said  the  Eng 
lishman. 

"  Because  it  was  nobody's  business ;  because  nobody  wished 
to  incur  the  vengeance  of  his  comrades  ;  because  there  were  not 
sufficient  gendarmes  near  to  insure  security  against  the  number 
of  desperadoes  he  might  have  at  hand ;  because  the  gendarmes 
might  not  have  received  particular  instructions  with  respect  to 
him,  and  might  not  feel  disposed  to  engage  in  a  hazardous  conflict 
without  compulsion.  In  short,  I  might  give  you  a  thousand  rea 
sons  rising  out  of  the  state  of  our  government  and  manners,  not 
one  of  which  after  all  might  appear  satisfactory." 

The  Englishman  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  con 
tempt. 

"  I  have  been  told,"  added  the  Roman,  rather  quickly,  "  that 
even  in  your  metropolis  of  London,  notorious  thieves,  well  known 
to  the  police  as  such,  walk  the  streets  at  noonday  in  search  of 
their  prey,  and  are  not  molested  unless  caught  in  the  very  act  of 
robbery." 

The  Englishman  gave  another  shrug,  but  with  a  different 
expression. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  fixed  my  eye  on  this  daring  wolf,  thus  prowling 
through  the  fold,  and  saw  him  enter  a  church.  I  was  curious 
to  witness  his  devotion.  You  know  our  spacious  magnificent 
churches.  The  one  in  which  he  entered  was  vast,  and  shrouded 
in  the  dusk  of  evening.  At  the  extremity  of  the  long  aisles  a 
couple  of  tapers  feebly  glimmered  on  the  grand  altar.  In  one  of 
the  side  chapels  was  a  votive  candle  placed  before  the  image  of  a 
saint.  Before  this  image  the  robber  had  prostrated  himself.  His 
mantle  partly  falling  off  from  his  shoulders  as  he  knelt,  revealed 
a  form  of  Herculean  strength ;  a  stiletto  and  pistol  glittered  in 


286  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


his  belt ;  and  the  light  falling  on  his  countenance,  showed  features 
not  unhandsome,  but  strongly  and  fiercely  characterized.  As  he 
prayed,  he  became  vehemently  agitated  ;  his  lips  quivered ;  sighs 
and  murmurs,  almost  groans,  burst  from  him ;  he  beat  his  breast 
with  violence ;  then  clasped  his  hands  and  wrung  them  convul 
sively,  as  he  extended  them  towards  the  image.  Never  had  I 
seen  such  a  terrific  picture  of  remorse.  I  felt  fearful  of  being 
discovered  watching  him,  and  withdrew.  Shortly  afterwards,  I 
saw  him  issue  from  the  church  wrapped  in  his  mantle.  He  re- 
crossed  the  square,  and  no  doubt  returned  to  the  mountains  with 
a  disburdened  conscience,  ready  to  incur  a  fresh  arrear  of  crime." 

Here  the  Neapolitan  was  about  to  get  hold  of  the  conversa 
tion,  and  had  just  preluded  with  the  ominous  remark,  "  That  puts 
me  in  mind  of  a  circumstance,"  when  the  improvisatore,  too 
adroit  to  suffer  himself  to  be  again  superseded,  went  on,  pretend 
ing  not  to  hear  the  interruption. 

"  Among  the  many  circumstances  connected  with  the  banditti, 
which  serve  to  render  the  traveller  uneasy  and  insecure,  is  the 
understanding  which  they  sometimes  have  with  innkeepers. 
Many  an  isolated  inn  among  the  lonely  parts  of  the  Roman 
territories,  and  especially  about  the  mountains,  are  of  a  danger 
ous  and  perfidious  character.  They  are  places  where  the  banditti 
gather  information,  and  where  the  unwary  traveller,  remote  from 
hearing  or  assistance,  is  betrayed  to  the  midnight  dagger.  The 
robberies  committed  at  such  inns  are  often  accompanied  by  the 
most  atrocious  murders ;  for  it  is  only  by  the  complete  extermi 
nation  of  their  victims  that  the  assassins  can  escape  detection.  I 
recollect  an  adventure,"  added  he,  "  which  occurred  at  one  of 
these  solitary  mountain  inns,  which,  as  you  all  seem  in  a  mood 
for  robber  anecdotes,  may  not  be  uninteresting." 


THE   LITTLE   ANTIQUARY.  287 


Having  secured  the  attention  and  awakened  the  curiosity  of 
the  by-standers,  he  paused  for  a  moment,  rolled  up  his  large  eyes 
as  improvisator!  are  apt  to  do  when  they  would  recollect  an 
impromptu,  and  then  related  with  great  dramatic  effect  the  fol 
lowing  story,  which  had,  doubtless,  been  well  prepared  and 
digested  beforehand. 


THE  BELATED  TRAVELLERS. 

IT  was  late  one  evening  that  a  carriage,  drawn  by  mules,  slowly 
toiled  its  way  up  one  of  the  passes  of  the  Apennines.  It  was 
through  one  of  the  wildest  defiles,  where  a  hamlet  occurred  only 
at  distant  intervals,  perched  on  the  summit  of  some  rocky 
height,  or  the  white  towers  of  a  convent  peeped  out  from  among 
the  thick  mountain  foliage.  The  carriage  was  of  ancient  and 
ponderous  construction.  Its  faded  embellishments  spoke  of 
former  splendor,  but  its  crazy  springs  and  axle-trees  creaked 
out  the  tale  of  present  decline.  Within  was  seated  a  tall,  thin 
old  gentleman,  in  a  kind  of  military  travelling  dress,  and  a 
foraging  cap  trimmed  with  fur,  though  the  gray  locks  which 
stole  from  under  it  hinted  that  his  fighting  days  were  over. 
Beside  him  was  a  pale,  beautiful  girl  of  eighteen,  dressed  in  some 
thing  of  a  northern  or  Polish  costume.  One  servant  was  seated 
in  front,  a  rusty,  crusty-looking  fellow,  with  a  scar  across  his 
face,  an  orange-tawny  schnur-bart,  or  pair  of  mustaches,  bristling 
from  under  his  nose,  and  altogether  the  air  of  an  old  soldier. 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  equipage  of  a  Polish  nobleman  ;  a  wreck 
of  one  of  those  princely  families  once  of  almost  oriental  magnifi 
cence,  but  broken  down  and  impoverished  by  the  disasters  of 
Poland.  The  Count,  like  many  other  generous  spirits,  had  been 
found  guilty  of  the  crime  of  patriotism,  and  was,  in  a  manner,  an 


THE  BELATED   TRAVELLERS.  2S9 


exile  from  his  country.  He  had  resided  for  some  time  in  the 
first  cities  of  Italy,  for  the  education  of  his  daughter,  in  whom 
all  his  cares  and  pleasures  were  now  centred.  He  had  taken  her 
into  society,  where  her  beauty  and  her  accomplishments  gained 
her  many  admirers ;  and  had  she  not  been  the  daughter  of  a 
poor  broken-down  Polish  nobleman,  it  is  more  than  probable  many 
would  have  contended  for  her  hand.  Suddenly,  however,  her 
health  became  delicate  and  drooping ;  her  gayety  fled  with  the 
roses  of  her  cheek,  and  she  sank  into  silence  and  debility.  The 
old  Count  saw  the  change  with  the  solicitude  of  a  parent.  "  We 
must  try  a  change  of  air  and  scene,"  said  he  ;  and  in  a  few  days 
the  old  family  carriage  was  rumbling  among  the  Apennines. 

Their  only  attendant  was  the  veteran  Caspar,  who  had  been 
born  in  the  family,  and  grown  rusty  in  its  service.  He  had  fol 
lowed  his  master  in  all  his  fortunes  ;  had  fought  by  his  side ;  had 
stood  over  him  when  fallen  in  battle ;  and  had  received,  in  his 
defence,  the  sabre-cut  which  added  'such  grimness  to  his  counte 
nance.  He  was  now  his  valet,  his  steward,  his  butler,  his  facto 
tum.  The  only  being  that  rivalled  his  master  in  his  affections 
was  his  youthful  mistress.  She  had  grown  up  under  his  eye,  he 
had  led  her  by  the  hand  when  she  was  a  child,  and  he  now  looked 
upon  her  with  the  fondness  of  a  parent.  Nay,  he  even  took  the 
freedom  of  a  parent  in  giving  his  blunt  opinion  on  all  matters 
which  he  thought  were  for  her  good  ;  and  felt  a  parent's  vanity 
at  seeing  her  gazed  at  and  admired. 

The  evening  was  thickening ;  they  had  been  for  some  time 
passing  through  narrow  gorges  of  the  mountains,  along  the  edges 
of  a  tumbling  stream.  The  scenery  was  lonely  and  savage.  The 
rocks  often  beetled  over  the  road,  with  flocks  of  white  goats 
browsing  on  their  brinks,  and  gazing  down  upon  the  travellers. 

13 


290  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


They  had  between  two  and  three  leagues  yet  to  go  before  they 
could  reach  any  village  ;  yet  the  muleteer,  Pietro,  a  tippling  old 
fellow,  who  had  refreshed  himself  at  the  last  halting-place  with  a 
more  than  ordinary  quantity  of  wine,  sat  singing  and  talking 
alternately  to  his  mules,  and  suffering  them  to  lag  on  at  a  snail's 
pace,  in  spite  of  the  frequent  entreaties  of  the  Count  and  male 
dictions  of  Caspar. 

The  clouds  began  to  roll  in  heavy  masses  among  the  moun 
tains,  shrouding  their  summits  from  view.  The  air  was  damp 
and  chilly.  The  Count's  solicitude  on  his  daughter's  account 
overcame  his  usual  patience.  He  leaned  from  the  carriage,  and 
called  to  old  Pietro  in  an  angry  tone  : 

"  Forward  !"  said  he.  "  It  will  be  midnight  before  we  arrive 
at  our  inn." 

"  Yonder  it  is,  Signor,"  said  the  muleteer. 
'•  Where  ?"  demanded  the  Count. 

"  Yonder,"  said  Pietro,  pointing  to  a  desolate  pile  about  a 
quarter  of  a  league  distant. 

"  That  the  place  ? — why,  it  looks  more  like  a  ruin  than  an  inn. 
I  thought  we  were  to  put  up  for  the  night  at  a  comfortable  village." 
Here  Pietro  uttered  a  string  of  piteous  exclamations  and 
ejaculations,  such  as  are  ever  at  the  tip  of  the  tongue  of  a  delin 
quent  muleteer.  "  Such  roads  !  and  such  mountains  !  and  then 
his  poor  animals  were  wayworn,  and  leg-weary ;  they  would  fall 
lame  ;  they  would  never  be  able  to  reach  the  village.  And  then 
what  could  his  Excellenza  wish  for  better  than  the  inn  ;  a  perfect 
castello — a  palazza — and  such  people  ! — and  such  a  larder ! — and 
such  beds  ! — His  Excellenza  might  fare  as  sumptuously,  and  sleep 
as  soundly  there  as  a  prince !" 

The  Count  was  easily  persuaded,  for  he  was  anxious  to  get 


THE   BELATED   TRAVELLERS.  291 


his  daughter  out  of  the  night  air  ;  so  in  a  little  while  the  old  car 
riage  rattled  and  jingled  into  the  great  gateway  of  the  inn. 

The  building  did  certainly  in  some  measure  answer  to  the 
muleteer's  description.  It  was  large  enough  for  either  castle  or 
palace ;  built  in  a  strong,  but  simple  and  almost  rude  style  ;  with 
a  great  quantity  of  waste  room.  It  had  in  fact  been,  in  former 
times,  a  hunting-seat  of  one  of  the  Italian  princes.  There  was 
space  enough  within  its  walls  and  out-buildings  to  have  accom 
modated  a  little  army.  A  scanty  household  seemed  now  to 
people  this  dreary  mansion.  The  faces  that  presented  themselves 
on  the  arrival  of  the  travellers  were  begrimed  with  dirt,  and 
scowling  in  their  expression.  They  all  knew  old  Pietro,  however, 
and  gave  him  a  welcome  as  he  entered,  singing  and  talking,  and 
almost  whooping,  into  the  gateway. 

The  hostess  of  the  inn  waited  herself  on  the  Count  and  his 
daughter,  to  show  them  the  apartments.  They  were  conducted 
through  a  long  gloomy  corridor,  and  then  through  a  suite  of 
chambers  opening  into  each  other,  with  lofty  ceilings,  and  great 
beams  extending  across  them.  Every  thing,  however,  had  a 
wretched,  squalid  look.  The  walls  were  damp  and  bare,  except 
ing  that  here  and  there  hung  some  great  painting,  large  enough 
for  a  chapel,  and  blackened  out  of  all  distinction. 

They  chose  two  bedrooms,  one  within  another ;  the  inner 
one  for  the  daughter.  The  bedsteads  were  massive  and  mis 
shapen  ;.  but  on  examining  the  beds  so  vaunted  by  old  Pietro, 
they  found  them  stuffed  with  fibres  of  hemp  knotted  in  great 
lumps.  The  Count  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  there  was  no 
choice  left. 

The  chilliness  of  the  apartments  crept  to  their  bones ;  and 
they  were  glad  to  return  to  a  common  chamber,  or  kind  of  hall, 


292  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


where  was  a  fire  burning  in  a  huge  cavern,  miscalled  a  chimney. 
A  quantity  of  green  wood,  just  thrown  on,  puffed  out  volumes  of 
smoke.  The  room  corresponded  to  the  rest  of  the  mansion. 
The  floor  was  paved  and  dirty.  A  great  oaken  table  stood  in  the 
centre,  immovable  from  its  size  and  weight. 

The  only  thing  that  contradicted  this  prevalent  air  of  indi 
gence  was  the  dress  of  the  hostess.  She  was  a  slattern  of  course ; 
yet  her  garments,  though  dirty  and  negligent,  were  of  costly  ma 
terials.  She  wore  several  rings  of  great  value  on  her  fingers, 
and  jewels  in  her  ears,  and  round  her  neck  was  a  string  of  large 
pearls,  to  which  was  attached  a  sparkling  crucifix.  She  had  the 
remains  of  beauty,  yet  there  was  something  in  the  expression  of 
her  countenance  that  inspired  the  young  lady  with  singular  aver 
sion.  She  was  officious  and  obsequious  in  her  attentions,  and 
both  the  Count  and  his  daughter  felt  relieved,  when  she  consigned 
them  to  the  care  of  a  dark,  sullen-looking  servant-maid,  and  went 
off  to  superintend  the  supper. 

Caspar  was  indignant  at  the  muleteer  for  having,  either 
through  negligence  or  design,  subjected  his  master  and  mistress 
to  such  quarters ;  and  vowed  by  his  mustaches  to  have  revenge 
on  the  old  varlet  the  moment  they  were  safe  out  from  among  the 
mountains.  He  kept  up  a  continual  quarrel  with  the  sulky  ser 
vant-maid,  which  only  served  to  increase  the  sinister  expression 
with  which  she  regarded  the  travellers,  from  under  her  strong 
dark  eyebrows. 

As  to  the  Count,  he  was  a  good-humored  passive  traveller. 
Perhaps  real  misfortunes  had  subdued  his  spirit,  and  rendered 
him  tolerant  of  many  of  those  petty  evils  which  make  prosper 
ous  men  miserable.  He  drew  a  large  broken  arm-chair  to  the 
fireside  for  his  daughter,  and  another  for  himself,  and  seizing  an 


THE   BELATED   TRAVELLERS.  293 


enormous  pair  of  tongs,  endeavored  to  re-arrange  the  wood  so  as 
to  produce  a  blaze.  His  efforts,  however,  were  only  repaid  by 
thicker  puffs  of  smoke,  which  almost  overcame  the  good  gentle 
man's  patience.  He  would  draw  back,  cast  a  look  upon  his 
delicate  daughter,  then  upon  the  cheerless,  squalid  apartment, 
and  shrugging  his  shoulders,  would  give  a  fresh  stir  to  the 
fire. 

Of  all  the  miseries  of  a  comfortless  inn,  however,  there  is 
none  greater  than  sulky  attendance :  the  good  Count  for  some 
time  bore  the  smoke  in  silence,  rather  than  address  himself  to  the 
scowling  servant-maid.  At  length  he  was  compelled  to  beg  for 
drier  firewood.  The  woman  retired  muttering.  On  re-entering 
the  room  hastily,  with  an  armful  of  fagots,  her  foot  slipped ; 
she  fell,  and  striking  her  head  against  the  corner  of  a  chair,  cut 
her  temple  severely. 

The  blow  stunned  her  for  a  time,  and  the  wound  bled  pro 
fusely.  When  she  recovered,  she  found  the  Count's  daughter 
administering  to  her  wound,  and  binding  it  up  with  her  own 
handkerchief.  It  was  such  an  attention  as  any  woman  of  ordi 
nary  feeling  would  have  yielded ;  but  perhaps  there  was  some 
thing  in  the  appearance  of  the  lovely  being  who  bent  over  her, 
or  in  the  tones  of  her  voice,  that  touched  the  heart  of  the  woman, 
unused  to  be  ministered  to  by  such  hands.  Certain  it  is,  she  was  * 
strongly  affected.  She  caught  the  delicate  hand  of  the  Polonaise, 
and  pressed  it  fervently  to  her  lips  : 

"  May  San  Francesco  watch  over  you,  Signora !"  ex 
claimed  she. 

A  new  arrival  broke  the  stillness  of  the  inn.  It  was  a  Span 
ish  Princess  with  a  numerous  retinue.  The  courtyard  was  in  an 
uproar ;  the  house  in  a  bustle.  The  landlady  hurried  to  attend 


294  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


such  distinguished  guests  :  and  the  poor  Count  and  his  daughter, 
and  their  supper,  were  for  a  moment  forgotten.  The  veteran 
Caspar  muttered  Polish  maledictions  enough  to  agonize  an  Italian 
ear ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  convince  the  hostess  of  the  superi 
ority  of  his  old  master  and  young  mistress  to  the  whole  nobility 
of  Spain. 

The  noise  of  the  arrival  had  attracted  the  daughter  to  the 
window  just  as  the  new-comers  had  alighted.  A  young  cavalier 
sprang  out  of  the  carriage,  and  handed  out  the  Princess.  The 
latter  was  a  little  shrivelled  old  lady,  with  a  face  of  parchment 
and  sparkling  black  eye ;  she  was  richly  and  gayly  dressed,  and 
walked  with  the  assistance  of  a  golden-headed  cane  as  high  as 
herself.  The  young  man  was  tall  and  elegantly  formed.  The 
Count's  daughter  shrunk  back  at  sight  of  him,  though  the  deep 
frame  of  the  window  screened  her  from  observation.  She  gave 
a  heavy  sigh  as  she  closed  the  casement.  What  that  sigh  meant 
I  cannot  say.  Perhaps  it  was  at  the  contrast  between  the  splen 
did  equipage  of  the  Princess,  and  the  crazy  rheumatic-looking  old 
vehicle  of  her  father,  which  stood  hard  by.  Whatever  might  be 
the  reason,  the  young  lady  closed  the  casement  with  a  sigh.  She 
returned  to  hef  chair, — a  slight  shivering  passed  over  her  delicate 
frame :  she  leaned  her  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  rested  her 
pale  cheek  in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  and  looked  mournfully  into 
the  fire. 

The  Count  thought  she  appeared  paler  than  usual. 

"  Does  any  thing  ail  thee,  my  child  ?"  said  he. 

"  Nothing,  dear  father !"  replied  she,  laying  her  hand  within 
his,  and  looking  up  smiling  in  his  face ;  but  as  she  said  so,  a 
treacherous  tear  rose  suddenly  to  her  eye,  and  she  turned  away 
her  head. 


THE  BELATED  TRAVELLERS.  295 


"  The  air  of  the  window  has  chilled  thee,"  said  the  Count, 
fondly,  "  but  a  good  night's  rest  will  make  all  well  again." 

The  supper  table  was  at  length  laid,  and  the  supper  about  to 
be  served,  when  the  hostess  appeared,  with  her  usual  obsequious 
ness,  apologizing  for  showing  in  the  new-comers  ;  but  the  night 
air  was  cold,  and  there  was  no  other  chamber  in  the  inn  with  a 
fire  in  it.  She  had  scarcely  made  the  apology  when  the  Princess 
entered,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  elegant  young  man. 

The  Count  immediately  recognized  her  for  a  lady  whom  he 
had  met  frequently  in  society,  both  at  Rome  and  Naples ;  and  at 
whose  conversaziones,  in  fact,  he  had  constantly  been  invited. 
The  cavalier,  too,  was  her  nephew  and  heir,  who  had  been  greatly 
admired  in  the  gay  circles  both  for  his  merits  and  prospects,  and 
who  had  once  been  on  a  visit  at  the  same  time  with  his  daughter 
and  himself  at  the  villa  of  a  nobleman  near  Naples.  Report  had 
recently  affianced  him  to  a  rich  Spanish  heiress. 

The  meeting  was  agreeable  to  both  the  Count  and  the  Prin 
cess.  The  former  was  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  courteous 
in  the  extreme  ;  the  Princess  had  been  a  belle  in  her  youth,  and 
a  woman  of  fashion  all  her  life,  and  liked  to  be  attended  to. 

The  young  man  approached  the  daughter,  and  began  some 
thing  of  a  complimentary  observation ;  but  his  manner  was  em 
barrassed,  and  his  compliment  ended  in  an  indistinct  murmur ; 
while  the  daughter  bowed  without  looking  up,  moved  her  lips 
without  articulating  a  word,  and  sank  again  into  her  chair,  where 
she  sat  gazing  into  the  fire,  with  a  thousand  varying  expressions 
passing  over  her  countenance. 

This  singular  greeting  of  the  young  people  was  not  perceived 
by  the  old  ones,  who  were  occupied  at  the  time  with  their  own 
courteous  salutations.  It  was  arranged  that  they  should  sup  to- 


296  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


gether ;  and  as  the  Princess  travelled  with  her  own  cook,  a  very 
tolerable  supper  soon  smoked  upon  the  board.  This,  too,  was 
assisted  by  choice  wines,  and  liquors,  and  delicate  confitures 
brought  from  one  of  her  carriages ;  for  she  was  a  veteran  epi 
cure,  and  curious  in  her  relish  for  the  good  things  of  this  world. 
She  was,  in  fact,  a  vivacious  little  old  lady,  who  mingled  the  wo 
man  of  dissipation  with  the  devotee.  She  was  actually  on  her 
way  to  Loretto  to  expiate  a  long  life  of  gallantries  and  peccadil 
loes  by  a  rich  offering  at  the  holy  shrine.  She  was,  to  be  sure, 
rather  a  luxurious  penitent,  and  a  contrast  to  the  primitive  pil 
grims,  with  scrip  and  staff,  and  cockle-shell ;  but  then  it  would  be 
unreasonable  to  expect  such  self-denial  from  people  of  fashion ; 
and  there  was  not  a  doubt  of  the  ample  efficacy  of  the  rich  cru 
cifixes,  and  golden  vessels,  and  jeweled  ornaments,  which  she 
was  bearing  to  the  treasury  of  the  blessed  Virgin. 

The  Princess  and  the  Count  chatted  much  during  supper 
about  the  scenes  and  society  in  which  they  had  mingled,  and  did 
not  notice  that  they  had  all  the  conversation  to  themselves  :  the 
young  people  were  silent  and  constrained.  The  daughter  ate 
nothing,  in  spite  of  the  politeness  of  the  Princess,  who  continu 
ally  pressed  her  to  taste  of  one  or  other  of  the  delicacies.  The 
Count  shook  his  head. 

"  She  is  not  well  this  evening,"  said  he.  "  I  thought  she 
would  have  fainted  just  now  as  she  was  looking  out  of  the  win 
dow  at  your  carriage  on  its  arrival." 

A  crimson  glow  flushed  to  the  very  temples  of  the  daughter ; 
but  she  leaned  over  her  plate,  and  her  tresses  cast  a  shade  over 
her  countenance. 

When  supper  was  over,  they  drew  their  chairs  about  the 
great  fireplace.  The  flame  and  smoke  had  subsided,  and  a  heap 


THE  BELATED  TRAVELLERS.  297 


of  glowing  embers  diffused  a  grateful  warmth.  A  guitar,  which 
had  been  brought  from  the  Count's  carriage,  leaned  against  the 
wall ;  the  Princess  perceived  it :  "  Can  we  not  have  a  little  music 
before  parting  for  the  night  ?"  demanded  she. 

The  Count  was  proud  of  his  daughter's  accomplishment,  and 
joined  in  the  request.  The  young  man  made  an  effort  of  polite 
ness,  and  taking  up  the  guitar,  presented  it,  though  in  an  embar 
rassed  manner,  to  the  fair  musician.  She  would  have  declined  it, 
but  was  too  much  confused  to  do  so ;  indeed,  she  was  so  nervous 
and  agitated,  that  she  dared  not  trust  her  voice  to  make  an  ex- 
quse.  She  touched  the  instrument  with  a  faltering  hand,  and, 
after  preluding  a  little,  accompanied  herself  in  several  Polish 
airs.  Her  father's  eyes  glistened  as  he  sat  gazing  on  her.  Even 
the  crusty  Caspar  lingered  in  the  room,  partly  through  a  fondness 
for  the  music  of  his  native  country,  but  chiefly  through  his  pride 
in  the  musician.  Indeed,  the  melody  of  the  voice,  and  the  deli 
cacy  of  the  touch,  were  enough  to  have  charmed  more  fastidious 
ears.  The  little  Princess  nodded  her  head  and  tapped  her  hand 
to  the  music,  though  exceedingly  out  of  time ;  while  the  nephew 
sat  buried  in  profound  contemplation  of  a  black  picture  on  the 
opposite  wall. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Count,  patting  her  cheek  fondly,  "  one 
more  favor.  Let  the  Princess  hear  that  little  Spanish  air  you 
were  so  fond  of.  You  can't  think,"  added  he,  "  what  a  proficiency 
she  has  made  in  your  language  ;  though  she  has  been  a  sad  girl 
and  neglected  it  of  late." 

The  color  flushed  the  pale  cheek  of  the  daughter.  She  hesi 
tated,  murmured  something;  but  with  sudden  effort,  collected 
herself,  struck  the  guitar  boldly,  and  began.  It  was  a  Spanish 
romance,  with  something  of  love  and  melancholy  in  it.  She 

13* 


298  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


gave  the  first  stanza  with  great  expression,  for  the  tremulous, 
melting  tones  of  her  voice  went  to  the  heart ;  but  her  articulation 
failed,  her  lip  quivered,  the  song  died  away,  and  she  burst  into 
tears. 

The  Count  folded  her  tenderly  in  his  arms.  "  Thou  art  not 
well,  my  child,"  said  he,  "  and  I  am  tasking  the'e  cruelly.  Retire 
to  thy  chamber,  and  God  bless  thee !"  She  bowed  to  the  com 
pany  without  raising  her  eyes,  and  glided  out  of  the  room. 

The  Count  shook  his  head  as  the  door  closed.  "  Something 
is  the  matter  with  that  child,"  said  he,  "  which  I  cannot  divine. 
She  has  lost  all  health  and  spirits  lately.  She  was  always  a  ten 
der  flower,  and  I  had  much  pains  to  rear  her.  Excuse  a  father's 
foolishness,"  continued  he,  "  but  I  have  seen  much  trouble  in  my 
family ;  and  this  poor  girl  is  all  that  is  now  left  to  me ;  and  she 
used  to  be  so  lively " 

"  Maybe  she's  in  love  !"  said  the  little  Princess,  with  a  shrewd 
nod  of  the  head. 

"  Impossible  !"  replied  the  good  Count  artlessly.  "  She  has 
never  mentioned  a  word  of  such  a  thing  to  me." 

How  little  did  the  worthy  gentleman  dream  of  the  thousand 
cares,  and  griefs,  and  mighty  love  concerns  which  agitate  a  virgin 
heart,  and  which  a  timid  girl  scarcely  breathes  unto  herself. 

The  nephew  of  the  Princess  rose  abruptly  and  walked  about 
the  room. 

When  she  found  herself  alone  in  her  chamber,  the  feelings 
of  the  young  lady,  so  long  restrained,  broke  forth  with  violence. 
She  opened  the  casement  that  the  cool  air  might  blow  upon  her 
throbbing  temples.  Perhaps  there  was  some  little  pride  or  pique 
mingled  with  her  emotions ;  though  her  gentle  nature  did  not  seem 
calculated  to  harbor  any  such  angry  inmate. 


THE  BELATED  TRAVELLERS.  299 


"  He  saw  me  weep !"  said  she,  with  a  sudden  mantling  of  the 
cheek,  and  a  swelling  of  the  throat, — "  but  no  matter ! — no 
matter !" 

And  so  saying,  she  threw  her  white  arms  across  the  window- 
frame,  buried  her  face  in  them,  and  abandoned  herself  to  an 
agony  of  tears.  She  remained  lost  in  a  reverie,  until  the  sound 
of  her  father's  and  Caspar's  voices  in  the  adjoining  room  gave 
token  that  the  party  had  retired  for  the  night.  The  lights  gleam 
ing  from  window  to  window,  showed  that  they  were  conducting 
the  Princess  to  her  apartments,  which  were  in  the  opposite  wing 
of  the  inn ;  and  she  distinctly  saw  the  figure  of  the  nephew  as  he 
passed  one  of  the  casements. 

She  heaved  a  deep  heart-drawn  sigh,  and  was  about  to  close 
the  lattice,  when  her  attention  was  caught  by  words  spoken  below 
her  window  by  two  persons  who  had  just  turned  an  angle  of  the 
building. 

"  But  what  will  become  of  the  poor  young  lady  ?"  said  a  voice 
which  she  recognized  for  that  of  the  servant-woman. 

"  Pooh !  she  must  take  her  chance,"  was  the  reply  from  old 
Pietro. 

"  But  cannot  she  be  spared  ?"  asked  the  other  entreatingly ; 
"  she's  so  kind-hearted !" 

"  Cospetto  !  what  has  got  into  thee  ?"  replied  the  other  petu 
lantly  :  "  would  you  mar  the  whole  business  for  the  sake  of  a  silly 
girl  ?"  By  this  time  they  had  got  so  far  from  the  window  that 
the  Polonaise  could  hear  nothing  further. 

There  was  something  in  this  fragment  of  conversation  calcu 
lated  to  alarm.  Did  it  relate  to  herself? — and  if  so,  what  was 
this  impending  danger  from  which  it  was  entreated  that  she  might 
be  spared  ?  She  was  several  times  on  the  point  of  tapping  at 


300  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER 


her  father's  door,  to  tell  him  what  she  had  heard  ;  but  she  might 
have  been  mistaken  ;  she  might  have  heard  indistinctly ;  the  con 
versation  might  have  alluded  to  some  one  else ;  at  any  rate,  it 
was  too  indefinite  to  lead  to  any  conclusion.  While  in  this  state 
of  irresolution,  she  was  startled  by  a  low  knocking  against  the 
wainscot  in  a  remote  part  of  her  gloomy  chamber.  On  holding 
up  the  light,  she  beheld  a  small  door  there,  which  she  had  not 
before  remarked.  It  was  bolted  on  the  inside.  She  advanced, 
and  demanded  who  knocked,  and  was  answered  in  the  voice  of 
the  female  domestic.  On  opening  the  door,  the  Avoman  stood  be 
fore  it  pale  and  agitated.  She  entered  softly,  laying  her  finger 
on  her  lips  in  sign  of  caution  and  secrecy. 

"Fly!"  said  she:  "leave  this  house  instantly,  or  you  are 
lost!" 

The  young  lady,  trembling  with  alarm,  demanded  an  explana 
tion. 

"  I  have  no  time,"  replied  the  woman,  "  I  dare  not — I  shall 
be  missed  if  I  linger  here — but  fly  instantly,  or  you  are  lost." 

"  And  leave  my  father  ?" 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  the  adjoining  chamber." 

"  Call  him,  then,  but  lose  no  time." 

The  young  lady  knocked  at  her  father's  door.  He  was  not 
yet  retired  to  bed.  She  hurried  into  his  room,  and  told  him  of 
the  fearful  warnings  she  had  received.  The  Count  returned  with 
her  into  her  chamber,  followed  by  Caspar.  His  questions  soon 
drew  the  truth  out  of  the  embarrassed  answers  of  the  woman. 
The  inn  was  beset  by  robbers.  They  were  to  be  introduced  after 
midnight,  when  the  attendants  of  the  Princess  and  the  rest  of  the 
travellers  were  sleeping,  and  would  be  an  easy  prey. 


THE  BELATED  TRAVELLERS.  301 


"  But  we  can  barricade  the  inn,  we  can  defend  ourselves," 
said  the  Count. 

"  What !  when  the  people  of  the  inn  are  in  league  with  the 
banditti  ?" 

"  How  then  are  we  to  escape  ?  Can  we  not  order  out  the 
carriage  and  depart  ?" 

"  San  Francesco !  for  what  ?  To  give  the  alarm  that  the 
plot  is  discovered  ?  That  would  make  the  robbers  desperate,  and 
bring  them  on  you  at  once.  They  have  had  notice  of  the  rich 
booty  in  the  inn,  and  will  not  easily  let  it  escape  them." 

"  But  how  else  are  we  to  get  off?" 

"  There  is  a  horse  behind  the  inn,"  said  the  woman,  "  from 
which  the  man  has  just  dismounted  who  has  been  to  summon  the 
aid  of  part  of  the  band  at  a  distance." 

"  One  horse  ;  and  there  are  three  of  us  !"  said  the  Count. 

"  And  the  Spanish  Princess !"  cried  the  daughter  anxiously — 
"  How  can  she  be  extricated  from  the  danger  ?" 

"  Diavolo  !  what  is  she  to  me  ?"  said  the  woman  in  sudden 
passion.  "  It  is  you  I  come  to  save,  and  you  will  betray  me,  and 
we  shall  all  be  lost !  Hark !"  continued  she,  "  I  am  called — I 
shall  be  discovered — one  word  more.  This  door  leads  by  a  stair 
case  to  the  courtyard.  Under  the  shed,  in  the  rear  of  the  yard, 
is  a  small  door  leading  out  to  the  fields.  You  will  find  a  horse 
there ;  mount  it ;  make  a  circuit  under  the  shadow  of  a  ridge 
of  rocks  that  you  will  see ;  proceed  cautiously  and  quietly  until 
you  cross  a  brook,  and  find  yourself  on  the  road  just  where  there 
are  three  white  crosses  nailed  against  a  tree  ;  then  put  your  horse 
to  his  speed,  and  make  the  best  of  your  way  to  the  village — but 
recollect,  my  life  is  in  your  hands — say  nothing  of  what  you  have 
heard  or  seen,  whatever  may  happen  at  this  inn." 


302  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


The  woman  hurried  away.  A  short  and  agitated  consultation 
took  place  between  the  Count,  his  daughter,  and  the  veteran  Cas 
par.  The  young  lady  seemed  to  have  lost  all  apprehension  for 
herself  in  her  solicitude  for  the  safety  of  the  Princess.  "  To  fly 
in  selfish  silence,  and  leave  her  to  be  massacred  !" — A  shuddering 
seized  her  at  the  very  thought.  The  gallantry  of  the  Count,  too, 
revolted  at  the  idea.  He  could  not  consent  to  turn  his  back  upon 
a  party  of  helpless  travellers,  and  leave  them  in  ignorance  of  the 
danger  which  hung  over  them. 

"But  what  is  to  become  of  the  young  lady,"  said  Caspar, 
"  if  the  alarm  is  given,  and  the  inn  thrown  in  a  tumult  ?  What 
may  happen  to  her  in  a  chance-medley  affray  ?" 

Here  the  feelings  of  the  father  were  roused ;  he  looked  upon 
his  lovely,  helpless  child,  and  trembled  at  the  chance  of  her  fall 
ing  into  the  hands  of  ruffians. 

The  daughter,  however,  thought  nothing  of  herself.  "  The 
Princess  !  the  Princess  ! — only  let  the  Princess  know  her  danger." 
She  was  willing  to  share  it  with  her. 

At  length  Caspar  interfered  with  the  zeal  of  a  faithful  old 
servant.  No  time  was  to  be  lost — the  first  thing  was  to  get  the 
young  lady  out  of  danger.  "  Mount  the  horse,"  said  he  to  the 
Count,  "  take  her  behind  you,  and  fly !  Make  for  the  village, 
rouse  the  inhabitants,  and  send  assistance.  Leave  me  here  to  give 
the  alarm  to  the  Princess  and  her  people.  I  am  an  old  soldier, 
and  I  think  we  shall  be  able  to  stand  siege  until  you  send  us  aid." 

The  daughter  would  again  have  insisted  on  staying  with  the 
Princess — 

"  For  what  ?"  said  old  Caspar  bluntly.  "  You  could  do  no 
good — you  would  be  in  the  way  ; — we  should  have  to  take  care 
of  you  instead  of  ourselves." 


THE  BELATED  TRAVELLERS.  303 


There  was  no  answering  these  objections ;  the  Count  seized 
his  pistols,  and  taking  his  daughter  under  his  arm,  moved  towards 
the  staircase.  The  young  lady  paused,  stepped  back,  and  said, 
faltering  with  agitation — "There  is  a  young  cavalier  with  the 
Princess — her  nephew — perhaps  he  may — " 

"  I  understand  you,  Mademoiselle,"  replied  old  Caspar  with  a 
significant  nod ;  "  not  a  hair  of  his  head  shall  suffer  harm  if  I 
can  help  it !" 

The  young  lady  blushed  deeper  than  ever  ;  she  had  not  anti 
cipated  being  so  thoroughly  understood  by  the  blunt  old  servant. 

"  That  is  not  what  I  mean,"  said  she,  hesitating.  She  would 
have  added  something,  or  made  some  explanation,  but  the  mo 
ments  were  precious,  and  her  father  hurried  her  away. 

They  found  their  way  through  the  courtyard  to  the  small 
postern  gate  where  the  horse  stood,  fastened  to  a  ring  in  the  wall. 
The  Count  mounted,  took  his  daughter  behind  him,  and  they  pro 
ceeded  as  quietly  as  possible  in  the  direction  which  the  woman 
had  pointed  out.  Many  a  fearful  and  anxious  look  did  the 
daughter  cast  back  upon  the  gloomy  pile  ;  the  lights  which  had 
feebly  twinkled  through  the  dusky  casements  were  one  by  one 
disappearing,  a  sign  that  the  inmates  were  gradually  sinking  to 
repose ;  and  she  trembled  with  impatience,  lest  succor  should  not 
arrive  until  that  repose  had  been  fatally  interrupted. 

They  passed  silently  and  safely  along  the  skirts  of  the  rocks, 
protected  from  observation  by  their  overhanging  shadows.  They 
crossed  the  brook,  and  reached  the  place  where  three  white  crosses 
nailed  against  a  tree  told  of  some  murder  that  had  been  committed 
there.  Just  as  they  had  reached  this  ill-omened  spot  they  beheld 
several  men  in  the  gloom  coming  down  a  craggy  defile  among  the 
rocks. 


304  TALES  OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


"  Who  goes  there  ?"  exclaimed  a  voice.  The  Count  put  spurs 
to  his  horse,  but  one  of  the  men  sprang  forward  and  seized  the 
bridle.  The  horse  started  back,  and  reared,  and  had  not  the 
young  lady  clung  to  her  father,  she  would  have  been  thrown  off. 
The  Count  leaned  forward,  put  a  pistol  to  the  very  head  of  the 
ruffian,  and  fired.  The  latter  fell  dead.  The  horse  sprang  for 
ward.  Two  or  three  shots  were  fired  which  whistled  by  the 
fugitives,  but  only  served  to  augment  their  speed.  They  reached 
the  village  in  safety. 

The  whole  place  was  soon  roused ;  but  such  was  the  awe  in 
which  the  banditti  were  held,  that  the  inhabitants  shrunk  at  the 
idea  of  encountering  them.  A  desperate  band  had  for  some  time 
infested  that  pass  through  the  mountains,  and  the  inn  had  long 
been  suspected  of  being  one  of  those  horrible  places  where  the 
unsuspicious  wayfarer  is  entrapped  and  silently  disposed  of.  The 
rich  ornaments  worn  by  the  slattern  hostess  of  the  inn  had  ex 
cited  heavy  suspicions.  Several  instances  had  occurred  of  small 
parties  of  travellers  disappearing  mysteriously  on  that  road,  who, 
it  was  supposed  at  first,  had  been  carried  off  by  the  robbers  for 
the  purpose  of  ransom,  but  who  had  never  been  heard  of  more. 
Such  were  the  tales  buzzed  in  the  ears  of  the  Count  by  the  villa 
gers,  as  he  endeavored  to  rouse  them  to  the  rescue  of  the  Prin 
cess  and  her  train  from  their  perilous  situation.  The  daughter 
seconded  the  exertions  of  her  father  with  all  the  eloquence  of 
prayers,  and  tears,  and  beauty.  Every  moment  that  elapsed  in 
creased  her  anxiety  until  it  became  agonizing.  Fortunately  there 
was  a  body  of  gendarmes  resting  at  the  village.  A  number  of 
the  young  villagers  volunteered  to  accompany  them,  and  the  little 
army  was  put  in  motion.  The  Count  having  deposited  his 
daughter  in  a  place  of  safety,  was  too  much  of  the  old  soldier  not 


THE  BELATED  TRAVELLERS.  305 


to  hasten  to  the  scene  of  danger.     It  would  be  difficult  to  paint 
the  anxious  agitation  of  the  young  lady  while  awaiting  the  result. 

The  party  arrived  at  the  inn  just  in  time.  The  robbers,  find 
ing  their  plans  discovered,  and  the  travellers  prepared  for  their 
reception,  had  become  open  and  furious  in  their  attack.  The 
Princess's  party  had  barricaded  themselves  in  one  suite  of  apart 
ments,  and  repulsed  the  robbers  from  the  doors  and  windows. 
Caspar  had  shown  the  generalship  of  a  veteran,  and  the  nephew 
of  the  Princess  the  dashing  valor  of  a  young  soldier.  Their 
ammunition,  however,  was  nearly  exhausted,  and  they  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  hold  out  much  longer,  when  a  discharge  from 
the  musketry  of  the  gendarmes  gave  them  the  joyful  tidings  of 
succor. 

A  fierce  fight  ensued,  for  part  of  the  robbers  were  surprised 
in  the  inn,  and  had  to  stand  siege  in  their  turn ;  while  their  com 
rades  made  desperate  attempts  to  relieve  them  from  under  cover 
of  the  neighboring  rocks  and  thickets. 

I  cannot  pretend  to  give  a  minute  account  of  the  fight,  as  I 
have  heard  it  related  in  a  variety  of  ways.  Suffice  it  to  say,  the 
robbers  were  defeated ;  several  of  them  killed,  and  several  taken 
prisoners  ;  which  last,  together  with  the  people  of  the  inn,  were 
either  executed  or  sent  to  the  galleys. 

I  picked  up  these  particulars  in  the  course  of  a  journey  which 
I  made  some  time  after  the  event  had  taken  place.  I  passed  by 
the  very  inn.  It  was  then  dismantled,  excepting  one  wing,  in 
which  a  body  of  gendarmes  was  stationed.  They  pointed  out  to 
me  the  shot-holes  in  the  window-frames,  the  walls,  and  the 
panels  of  the  doors.  There  were  a  number  of  withered  limbs 
dangling  from  the  branches  of  a  neighboring  tree,  and  blackening 


306  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


in  the  air,  which  I  was  told  were  the  limbs  of  the  robbers  who 
had  been  slain,  and  the  culprits  who  had  been  executed.  The 
whole  place  had  a  dismal,  wild,  forlorn  look. 

"  Were  any  of  the  Princess's  party  killed  ?"  inquired  the 
Englishman. 

"  As  far  as  I  can  recollect,  there  were  two  or  three." 

"  Not  the  nephew,  I  trust  ?"  said  the  fair  Venetian. 

"  Oh  no :  he  hastened  with  the  Count  to  relieve  the  anxiety 
of  the  daughter  by  the  assurances  of  victory.  The  young  lady 
had  been  sustained  throughout  the  interval  of  suspense  by  the 
very  intensity  of  her  feelings.  The  moment  she  saw  her  father 
returning  in  safety,  accompanied  by  the  nephew  of  the  Princess, 
she  uttered  a  cry  of  rapture,  and  fainted.  Happily,  however, 
she  soon  recovered,  and  what  is  more,  was  married  shortly  after 
wards  to  the  young  cavalier,  and  the  whole  party  accompanied 
the  old  Princess  in  her  pilgrimage  to  Loretto,  where  her  votive 
offerings  may  still  be  seen  in  the  treasury  of  the  Santa  Casa." 


It  would  be  tedious  to  follow  the  devious  course  of  the  con 
versation  as  it  wound  through  a  maze  of  stories  of  the  kind,  until 
it  was  taken  up  by  two  other  travellers  who  had  come  under  con 
voy  of  the  procaccio  :  Mr.  Hobbs  and  Mr.  Dobbs,  a  linen-draper 
and  a  green-grocer,  just  returning  foom  a  hasty  tour  in  Greece 
and  the  Holy  Land.  They  were  full  of  the  story  of  Alderman 
Popkins.  They  were  astonished  that  the  robbers  should  dare  to 
molest  a  man  of  his  importance  on  'Change,  he  being  an  eminent 
dry-salter  of  Throgmorton-street,  and  a  magistrate  to  boot. 


THE  BELATED   TRAVELLERS.  307 


In  fact,  the  story  of  the  Popkins  family  was  but  too  true.  It 
was  attested  by  too  many  present  to  be  for  a  moment  doubted ; 
and  from  the  contradictory  and  concordant  testimony  of  half  a 
score,  all  eager  to  relate  it,  and  all  talking  at  the  same  time,  the 
Englishman  was  enabled  to  gather  the  following  particulars. 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  POPKINS  FAMILY. 

IT  was  but  a  few  days  before,  that  the  carriage  of  Alderman 
Popkins  had  driven  up  to  the  inn  of  Terracina.  Those  who 
have  seen  an  English  family-carriage  on  the  continent  must  have 
remarked  the  sensation  it  produces.  It  is  an  epitome  of  Eng 
land  ;  a  little  morsel  of  the  old  island  rolling  about  the  world. 
Every  thing  about  it  compact,  snug,  finished,  and  fitting.  The 
wheels  turning  on  patent  axles  without  rattling ;  the  body,  hang 
ing  so  well  on  its  springs,  yielding  to  every  motion,  yet  protecting 
from  every  shock;  the  ruddy  faces  gaping  from  the  windows — 
sometimes  of  a  portly  old  citizen,  sometimes  of  a  voluminous 
dowager,  and  sometimes  of  a  fine  fresh  hoyden  just  from  board 
ing-school.  And  then  the  dickeys  loaded  with  well-dressed  ser 
vants,  beef-fed  and  bluff ;  looking  down  from  their  heights  with 
contempt  on  all  the  world  around ;  profoundly  ignorant  of  the 
country  and  the  people,  and  devoutly  certain  that  every  thing  not 
English  must  be  wrong. 

Such  was  the  carriage  of  Alderman  Popkins  as  it  made  its 
appearance  at  Terracina.  The  courier  who  had  preceded  it  to 
order  horses,  and  who  was  a  Neapolitan,  had  given  a  magnificent 
account  of  the  richness  and  greatness  of  his  master ;  blundering 
with  an  Italian's  splendor  of  imagination  about  the  Alderman's 
titles  and  dignities.  The  host  had  added  his  usual  share  of 


THE  POPKINS  FAMILY.  309 


exaggeration ;  so  that  by  the  time  the  Alderman  drove  up  to  the 
door,  he  was  a  Milor — Magnifico — Principe — the  Lord  knows 
what! 

The  Alderman  was  advised  to  take  an  escort  to  Fondi  and 
Itri,  but  he  refused.  It  was  as  much  as  a  man's  life  was  worth, 
he  said,  to  stop  him  on  the  king's  highway :  he  would  complain 
of  it  to  the  ambassador  at  Naples ;  he  would  make  a  national 
affair  of  it.  The  Principessa  Popkins,  a  fresh,  motherly  dame, 
seemed  perfectly  secure  in  the  protection  of  her  husband,  so 
omnipotent  a  man  in  the  city.  The  Signorines  Popkins,  two  fine 
bouncing  girls,  looked  to  their  brother  Tom,  who  had  taken  les 
sons  in  boxing ;  and  as  to  the  dandy  himself,  he  swore  no  scara 
mouch  of  an  Italian  robber  would  dare  to  meddle  with  an  English 
man.  The  landlord  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned  out  the 
palms  of  his  hands  with  a  true  Italian  grimace,  and  the  carriage 
of  Milor  Popkins  rolled  on. 

They  passed  through  several  very  suspicious  places  without 
any  molestation.  The  Misses  Popkins,  who  were  very  romantic, 
and  had  learnt  to  draw  in  water-colors,  were  enchanted  with 
the  savage  scenery  around ;  it  was  so  like  what  they  had  read  in 
Mrs.  Radcliffe's  romances ;  they  should  like  of  all  things  to  make 
sketches.  At  length  the  carriage  arrived  at  a  place  where  the 
road  wound  up  a  long  hill.  Mrs.  Popkins  had  sunk  into  a  sleep ; 
the  young  ladies  were  lost  in  the  "  Loves  of  the  Angels ;"  and 
the  dandy  was  hectoring  the  postilions  from  the  coach-box.  The 
Alderman  got  out,  as  he  said,  to  stretch  his  legs  up  the  hill.  It 
was  a  long,  winding  ascent,  and  obliged  him  every  now  and  then 
to  stop  and  blow  and  wipe  his  forehead,  with  many  a  pish !  and 
phew !  being  rather  pursy  and  short  of  wind.  As  the  carriage, 
however,  was  far  behind  him,  and  moved  slowly  under  the  weight 


310  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


of  so  many  well-stuffed  trunks  and  well-stuffed  travellers,  he  had 
plenty  of  time  to  walk  at  leisure. 

On  a  jutting  point  of  a  rock  that  overhung  the  road,  nearly  at 
the  summit  of  the  hill,  just  where  the  road  began  again  to 
descend,  he  saw  a  solitary  man  seated,  who  appeared  to  be  tend 
ing  goats.  Alderman  Popkins  was  one  of  your  shrewd  travellers 
who  always  like  to  be  picking  up  small  information  along  the 
road;  so  he  thought  he'd  just  scramble  up  to  the  honest  man,  and 
have  a  little  talk  with  him  by  way  of  learning  the  news  and  get 
ting  a  lesson  in  Italian.  As  he  drew  near  to  the  peasant,  he  did 
not  half  like  his  looks.  He  was  partly  reclining  on  the  rocks, 
wrapped  in  the  usual  long  mantle,  which,  with  his  slouched  hat, 
only  left  a  part  of  a  swarthy  visage,  with  a  keen  black  eye,  a 
beetle  brow,  and  a  fierce  mustache  to  be  seen.  He  had  whistled 
several  times  to  his  dog,  which  was  roving  about  the  side  of  the 
hill.  As  the  Alderman  approached,  he  arose  and  greeted  him. 
When  standing  erect,  he  seemed  almost  gigantic,  at  least  in  the 
eyes  of  Alderman  Popkins,  who,  however,  being  a  short  man, 
might  be  deceived. 

The  latter  would  gladly  now  have  been  back  in  the  carriage, 
or  even  on  'Change  in  London ;  for  he  was  by  no  means  well 
pleased  with  his  company.  However,  he  determined  to  put  the 
best  face  on  matters,  and  was  beginning  a  conversation  about 
the  state  of  the  weather,  the  baddishness  of  the  crops,  and  the 
price  of  goats  in  that  part  of  the  country,  when  he  heard  a 
violent  screaming.  He  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  rock,  and  looking 
over,  beheld  his  carriage  surrounded  by  robbers.  One  held 
down  the  fat  footman,  another  had  the  dandy  by  his  starched 
cravat,  with  a  pistol  to  his  head ;  one  was  rummaging  a  portman 
teau,  another  rummaging  the  Principessa's  pockets;  while  the 


THE  POPKINS   FAMILY.  311 


two  Misses  Popkins  were  screaming  from  each  window  of  the 
carriage,  and  their  waiting-maid  squalling  from  the  dickey. 

Alderman  Popkins  felt  all  the  ire  of  the  parent  and  the 
magistrate  roused  within  him.  He  grasped  his  cane,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  scrambling  down  the  rocks  either  to  assault  the  rob 
bers  or  to  read  the  riot  act,  when  he  was  suddenly  seized  by  the 
arm.  It  was  by  his  friend  the  goatherd,  whose  cloak  falling 
open,  discovered  a  belt  stuck  full  of  pistols  and  stilettos.  In 
short,  he  found  himself  in  the  clutches  of  the  captain  of  the  band, 
who  had  stationed  himself  on  the  rock  to  look  out  for  travellers 
and  to  give  notice  to  his  men. 

A  sad  ransacking  took  place.  Trunks  were  turned  inside 
out,  and  all  the  finery  and  frippery  of  the  Popkins  family  scattered 
about  the  road.  Such  a  chaos  of  Venice  beads  and  Roman  mo 
saics,  and  Paris  bonnets  of  the  young  ladies,  mingled  with  the 
Alderman's  nightcaps  and  lambs'-wool  stockings,  and  the  dandy's 
hair-brushes,  stays,  and  starched  cravats. 

The  gentlemen  were  eased  of  their  purses  and  their  watches, 
the  ladies  of  their  jewels ;  and  the  whole  party  were  on  the  point 
of  being  carried  up  into  the  mountain,  when  fortunately  the  ap 
pearance  of  soldiers  at  a  distance  obliged  the  roobers  to  make  off 
with  the  spoils  they  had  secured,  and  leave  the  Popkins  family  to 
gather  together  the  remnants  of  their  effects,  and  make  the  best 
of  their  way  to  Fondi. 

When  safe  arrived,  the  Alderman  made  a  terrible  blustering 
at  the  inn ;  threatened  to  complain  to  the  ambassador  at  Naples, 
and  was  ready  to  shake  his  cane  at  the  whole  country.  The 
dandy  had  many  stories  to  tell  of  his  scuffles  with  the  brigands, 
who  overpowered  him  merely  by  numbers.  As  to  the  Misses 
Popkins,  they  were  quite  delighted  with  the  adventure,  and  were 


312  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


occupied  the  whole  evening  in  writing  it  in  their  journals.  They 
declared  the  captain  of  the  band  to  be  a  most  romantic-looking 
man,  they  dared  to  say  some  unfortunate  lover  or  exiled  noble 
man  ;  and  several  of  the  band  to  be  very  handsome  young  men — 
"  quite  picturesque !" 

"  In  verity,"  said  mine  host  of  Terracina,  "  they  say  the  cap 
tain  of  the  band  is  un  gallant  uomo" 

"  A  gallant  man !"  said  the  Englishman,  indignantly :  "  I'd 
have  your  gallant  man  hanged  like  a  dog !" 

"  To  dare  to  meddle  with  Englishmen !"  said  Mr.  Hobbs. 

"  And  such  a  family  as  the  Popkinses !"  said  Mr.  Dobbs. 

"  They  ought  to  come  upon  the  county  for  damages !"  said 
Mr.  Hobbs. 

"  Our  ambassador  should  make  a  complaint  to  the  government 
of  Naples,"  said  Mr.  Dobbs. 

"  They  should  be  obliged  to  drive  these  rascals  out  of  the 
country,"  said  Hobbs. 

"  And  if  they  did  not,  we  should  declare  war  against  them," 
said  Dobbs. 

"  Pish  ! — humbug !"  muttered  the  Englishman  to  himself,  and 
walked  away. 


The  Englishman  had  been  a  little  wearied  by  this  story,  and 
by  the  ultra  zeal  of  his  countrymen,  and  was  glad  when  a  sum 
mons  to  their  supper  relieved  him  from  the  crowd  of  travellers. 
He  walked  out  with  his  Venetian  friends  and  a  young  French 
man  of  an  interesting  demeanor,  who  had  become  sociable  with 
them  in  the  course  of  the  conversation.  They  directed  their 
steps  towards  the  sea,  which  was  lit  up  by  the  rising  moon. 


THE   POPKINS  FAMILY.  313 


As  they  strolled  along  the  beach  they  came  to  where  a  party 
of  soldiers  were  stationed  in  a  circle.  They  were  guarding  a 
number  of  galley  slaves,  who  were  permitted  to  refresh  them 
selves  in  the  evening  breeze,  and  sport  and  roll  upon  the  sand. 

The  Frenchman  paused,  and  pointed  to  the  group  of  wretches 
at  their  sports.  "  It  is  difficult,"  said  he,  "  to  conceive  a  more 
frightful  mass  of  crime  than  is  here  collected.  Many  of  these 
have  probably  been  robbers,  such  as  you  have  heard  described. 
Such  is,  too  often,  the  career  of  crime  in  this  country.  The  par 
ricide,  the  fratricide,  the  infanticide,  the  miscreant  of  every  kind, 
first  flies  from  justice  and  turns  mountain  bandit ;  and  then,  when 
wearied  of  a  life  of  danger,  becomes  traitor  to  his  brother  despe 
radoes  ;  betrays  them  to  punishment,  and  thus  buys  a  commuta 
tion  of  his  own  sentence  from  death  to  the  galleys ;  happy  in  the 
privilege  of  wallowing  on  the  shore  an  hour  a  day,  in  this  mere 
state  of  animal  enjoyment." 

The  fair  Venetian  shuddered  as  she  cast  a  look  at  the  horde 
of  wretches  at  their  evening  amusement.  "  They  seemed,"  she 
said,  "  like  so  many  serpents  writhing  together."  And  yet  the 
idea  that  some  of  them  had  been  robbers,  those  formidable  beings 
that  haunted  her  imagination,  made  her  still  cast  another  fearful 
glance,  as  we  contemplate  some  terrible  beast  of  prey,  with  a 
degree  of  awe  and  horror,  even  though  caged  and  chained. 

The  conversation  reverted  to  the  tales  of  banditti  which  they 
had  heard  at  the  inn.  The  Englishman  condemned  some  of  them 
as  fabrications,  others  as  exaggerations.  As  to  the  story  of  the 
improvisatore,  he  pronounced  it  a  mere  piece  of  romance,  origi 
nating  in  the  heated  brain  of  the  narrator. 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  there  is  so  much  romance 
about  the  real  life  of  those  beings,  and  about  the  singular  country 

14 


314  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


they  infest,  that  it  is  hard  to  tell  what  to  reject  on  the  ground  of 
improbability.  I  have  had  an  adventure  happen  to  myself  which 
gave  me  an  opportunity  of  getting  some  insight  into  their  manners 
and  habits,  which  I  found  altogether  out  of  the  common  run  of 
existence." 

There  was  an  air  of  mingled  frankness  and  modesty  about  the 
Frenchman  which  had  gained  the  good  will  of  the  whole  party, 
not  even  excepting  the  Englishman.  They  all  eagerly  inquired 
after  the  particulars  of  the  circumstances  he  alluded  to,  and  as 
they  strolled  slowly  up  and  down  the  sea-shore,  he  related  the 
following  adventure. 


THE  PAINTER'S  ADVENTURE. 

I  AM  an  historical  painter  by  profession,  and  resided  for  some  time 
in  the  family  of  a  foreign  Prince  at  his  villa,  about  fifteen  miles 
from  Rome,  among  some  of  the  most  interesting  scenery  of  Italy. 
It  is  situated  on  the  heights  of  ancient  Tusculum.  In  its  neigh 
borhood  are  the  ruins  of  the  villas  of  Cicero,  Scylla,  Lucullus, 
Rufinus,  and  other  illustrious  Romans,  who  sought  refuge  here 
occasionally  from  their  toils,  in  the  bosom  of  a  soft  and  luxurious 
repose.  From  the  midst  of  delightful  bowers,  refreshed  by  the 
pure  mountain  breeze,  the  eye  looks  over  a  romantic  landscape 
full  of  poetical  and  historical  associations.  The  Albanian  moun 
tains  ;  Tivoli,  once  the  favorite  residence  of  Horace  and  Mecoenas  ; 
the  vast,  deserted,  melancholy  Campagna,  with  the  Tiber  winding 
through  it,  and  St.  Peter's  dome  swelling  in  the  midst,  the  monu 
ment,  as  it  were,  over  the  grave  of  ancient  Rome. 

I  assisted  the  Prince  in  researches  which  he  was  making 
among  the  classic  ruins  of  his  vicinity  :  his  exertions  were  highly 
successful.  Many  wrecks  of  admirable  statues  and  fragments  of 
exquisite  sculpture  were  dug  up  ;  monuments  of  the  taste  and 
magnificence  that  reigned  in  the  ancient  Tusculan  abodes.  He 
had  studded  his  villa  and  its  grounds  with  statues,  relievos,  vases, 
and  sarcophagi,  thus  retrieved  from  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 

The  mode  of  life  pursued  at  the  villa  was  delightfully  serene, 


316  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


diversified  by  interesting  occupations  and  elegant  leisure.  Every 
one  passed  the  day  according  to  his  pleasure  or  pursuits ;  and  we 
all  assembled  in  a  cheerful  dinner  party  at  sunset. 

It  was  on  the  fourth  of  November,  a  beautiful  serene  day, 
that  we  had  assembled  in  the  saloon  at  the  sound  of  the  first  din 
ner-bell.  The  family  were  surprised  at  the  absence  of  the 
Prince's  confessor.  They  waited  for  him  in  vain,  and  at  length 
placed  themselves  at  table.  They  at  first  attributed  his  absence 
to  his  having  prolonged  his  customary  walk ;  and  the  early  part 
of  the  dinner  passed  without  any  uneasiness.  "When  the  dessert 
was  served,  however,  without  his  making  his  appearance,  they 
began  to  feel  anxious.  They  feared  he  might  have  been  taken  ill 
in  some  alley  of  the  woods,  or  might  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
robbers.  Not  far  from  the  villa,  with  the  interval  of  a  small  val 
ley,  rose  the  mountains  of  the  Abruzzi,  the  strong-hold  of  ban 
ditti.  Indeed,  the  neighborhood  had  for  some  time  past  been 
infested  by  them ;  and  Barbone,  a  notorious  bandit  chief,  had 
often  been  met  prowling  about  the  solitudes  of  Tusculum.  The 
daring  enterprises  of  these  ruffians  were  well  known  :  the  objects 
of  their  cupidity  or  vengeance  were  insecure  even  in  palaces. 
As  yet  they  had  respected  the  possessions  of  the  Prince ;  but  the 
idea  of  such  dangerous  spirits  hovering  about  the  neighborhood 
was  sufficient  to  occasion  alarm. 

The  fears  of  the  company  increased  as  evening  closed  in. 
The  Prince  ordered  out  forest  guards  and  domestics  with  flam 
beaux  to  search  for  the  confessor.  They  had  not  departed  long 
when  a  slight  noise  was  heard  in  the  corridor  of  the  ground-floor. 
The  family  were  dining  on  the  first  floor,  and  the  remaining  do 
mestics  were  occupied  in  attendance.  There  was  no  one  on  the 
ground-floor  at  this  moment  but  the  housekeeper,  the  laundress, 


THE   PAINTER'S  ADVENTURE.  317 


and  three  field  laborers,  who  were  resting  themselves,  and  con 
versing  with  the  women. 

I  heard  the  noise  from  below,  and  presuming  it  to  be  occa 
sioned  by  the  return  of  the  absentee,  I  left  the  table  and  hastened 
down  stairs,  eager  to  gain  intelligence  that  might  relieve  the 
anxiety  of  the  Prince  and  Princess.  I  had  scarcely  reached  the 
last  step,  when  I  beheld  before  me  a  man  dressed  as  a  bandit ;  a 
carbine  in  his  hand,  and  a  stiletto  and  pistols  in  his  belt.  His 
countenance  had  a  mingled  expression  of  ferocity  and  trepida 
tion  :  he  sprang  upon  me,  and  exclaimed  exultingly,  "  Ecco  il 
principe  !" 

I  saw  at  once  into  what  hands  I  had  fallen,  but  endeavored 
to  summon  up  coolness  and  presence  of  mind.  A  glance  towards 
the  lower  end  of  the  corridor  showed  me  several  ruffians,  clothed 
and  armed  in  the  same  manner  with  the  one  who  had  seized  me. 
They  were  guarding  the  two  females  and  the  field  laborers.  The 
robber,  who  held  me  firmly  by  the  collar,  demanded  repeatedly 
whether  or  not  I  were  the  Prince :  his  object  evidently  was  to 
carry  off  the  Prince,  and  extort  an  immense  ransom.  He  was 
enraged  at  receiving  none  but  vague  replies,  for  I  felt  the  impor 
tance  of  misleading  him. 

A  sudden  thought  struck  me  how  I  might  extricate  myself 
from  his  clutches.  I  was  unarmed,  it  is  true,  but  I  was  vigorous. 
His  companions  were  at  a  distance.  By  a  sudden  exertion  I 
might  wrest  myself  from  him,  and  spring  up  the  staircase,  whither 
he  would  not  dare  to  follow  me  singly.  The  idea  was  put  in 
practice  as  soon  as  conceived.  The  ruffian's  throat  was  bare  ; 
with  my  right  hand  I  seized  him  by  it,  with  my  left  hand  I 
grasped  the  arm  which  held  the  carbine.  The  suddenness  of  my 
attack  took  him  completely  unawares,  and  the  strangling  na- 


318  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


ture  of  my  grasp  paralyzed  him.  He  choked  and  faltered.  I 
felt  his  hand  relaxing  its  hold,  and  was  on  the  point  of  jerking 
myself  away,  and  darting  up  the  staircase,  before  he  could 
recover  himself,  when  I  was  suddenly  seized  by  some  one  from 
behind. 

I  had  to  let  go  my  grasp.  The  bandit,  once  released,  fell 
upon  me  with  fury,  and  gave  me  several  blows  with  the  butt  end 
of  his  carbine,  one  of  which  wounded  me  severely  in  the  fore 
head  and  covered  me  with  blood.  He  took  advantage  of  my 
being  stunned  to  rifle  me  of  my  watch,  and  whatever  valuables  I 
had  about  my  person. 

When  I  recovered  from  the  effect  of  the  blow,  I  heard  the 
voice  of  the  chief  of  the  banditti,  who  exclaimed — "  Quello  e  il 
principe  ;  siamo  contente ;  andiamo  !"  (It  is  the  Prince ;  enough ; 
let  us  be  off.)  The  band  immediately  closed  round  me  and 
dragged  me  out  of  the  palace,  bearing  off  the  three  laborers 
likewise. 

I  had  no  hat  on,  and  the  blood  flowed  from  my  wound  ;  I 
managed  to  stanch  it,  however,  with  my  pocket-handkerchief, 
which  I  bound  round  my  forehead.  The  captain  of  the  band 
conducted  me  in  triumph,  supposing  me  to  be  the  Prince.  We 
had  gone  some  distance  before  he  learnt  his  mistake  from  one  of 
the  laborers.  His  rage  was  terrible.  It  was  too  late  to  return 
to  the  villa  and  endeavor  to  retrieve  his  error,  for  by  this  time 
the  alarm  must  have  been  given,  and  every  one  in  arms.  He 
darted  at  me  a  ferocious  look — swore  I  had  deceived  him,  and 
caused  him  to  miss  his  fortune — and  told  me  to  prepare  for  death. 
The  rest  of  the  robbers  were  equally  furious.  I  saw  their  hands 
upon  their  poniards,  and  I  knew  that  death  was  seldom  an  empty 
threat  with  these  ruffians.  The  laborers  saw  the  peril  into  which 


THE  PAINTER'S  ADVENTURE.  319 


their  information  had  betrayed  me,  and  eagerly  assured  the 
captain  that  I  was  a  man  for  whom  the  Prince  would  pay  a  great 
ransom.  This  produced  a  pause.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  say 
that  I  had  been  much  dismayed  by  their  menaces.  I  mean  not 
to  make  any  boast  of  courage ;  but  I  have  been  so  schooled  to 
hardship  during  the  late  revolutions ;  and  have  beheld  death 
around  me  in  so  many  perilous  and  disastrous  scenes,  that  I  have 
become  in  some  measure  callous  to  its  terrors.  The  frequent 
hazard  of  life  makes  a  man  at  length  as  reckless  of  it  as  a  gam 
bler  of  his  money.  To  their  threat  of  death,  I  replied,  "  that  the 
sooner  it  was  executed  the  better."  This  reply  seemed  to 
astonish  the  captain ;  and  the  prospect  of  ransom  held  out  by  the 
laborers  had,  no  doubt,  a  still  greater  effect  on  him.  He  consid 
ered  for  a  moment,  assumed  a  calmer  manner,  and  made  a  sign 
to  his  companions,  who  had  remained  waiting  for  my  death-war 
rant.  "  Forward  !"  said  he  ;  "  we  will  see  about  this  matter  by 
and  by !" 

We  descended  rapidly  towards  the  road  of  La  Molara,  which 
leads  to  Rocca  Priori.  In  the  midst  of  this  road  is  a  solitary  inn. 
The  captain  ordered  the  troop  to  halt  at  the  distance  of  a  pistol- 
shot  from  it,  and  enjoined  profound  silence.  He  approached  the 
threshold  alone,  with  noiseless  steps.  He  examined  the  outside 
of  the  door  very  narrowly,  and  then  returning  precipitately,  made 
a  sign  for  the  troop  to  continue  its  march  in  silence.  It  has  since 
been  ascertained,  that  this  was  one  of  those  infamous  inns  which 
are  the  secret  resorts  of  banditti.  The  innkeeper  had  an  un 
derstanding  with  the  captain  as  he  most  probably  had  with  the 
chiefs  of  the  different  bands.  When  any  of  the  patroles  and 
gens-d'armes  were  quartered  at  his  house,  the  brigands  were 
warned  of  it  by  a  preconcerted  signal  on  the  door ;  when  there 


320  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


was  no  such  signal,  they  might  enter  with  safety,  and  be  sure  of 
welcome. 

After  pursuing  our  road  a  little  further,  we  struck  off  towards 
the  woody  mountains  which  envelope  Rocca  Priori.  Our  march 
was  long  and  painful ;  with  many  circuits  and  windings  :  at 
length  we  clambered  a  steep  ascent,  covered  with  a  thick  forest ; 
and  when  we  had  reached  the  centre,  I  was  told  to  seat  myself  on 
the  ground.  No  sooner  had  I  done  so  than,  at  a  sign  from  their 
chief,  the  robbers  surrounded  me,  and  spreading  their  great  cloaks 
from  one  to  the  other,  formed  a  kind  of  pavilion  of  mantles,  to 
which  their  bodies  might  be  said  to  serve  as  columns.  The  cap 
tain  then  struck  a  light,  and  a  flambeau  was  lit  immediately. 
The  mantles  were  extended  to  prevent  the  light  of  the  flambeau 
from  being  seen  through  the  forest.  Anxious  as  was  my  situa 
tion,  I  could  not  look  round  upon  this  screen  of  dusky  drapery, 
relieved  by  the  bright  colors  of  the  robbers'  garments,  the  gleam 
ing  of  their  weapons,  and  the  variety  of  strong  marked  counte 
nances,  lit  up  by  the  flambeau,  without  admiring  the  picturesque 
effect  of  the  scene.  It  was  quite  theatrical. 

The  captain  now  held  an  inkhorn,  and  giving  me  pen  and 
paper,  ordered  me  to  write  what  he  should  dictate.  I  obeyed. 
It  was  a  demand,  couched  in  the  style  of  robber  eloquence,  « that 
the  Prince  should  send  three  thousand  dollars  for  my  ransom ;  or 
that  my  death  should  be  the  consequence  of  a  refusal." 

I  knew  enough  of  the  desperate  character  of  these  beings  to 
feel  assured  this  was  not  an  idle  menace.  Their  only  mode  of 
insuring  attention  to  their  demands  is  to  make  the  infliction  of  the 
penalty  inevitable.  I  saw  at  once,  however,  that  the  demand  was 
preposterous,  and  made  in  improper  language. 

I  told  the  captain  so,  and  assured  him  that  so  extravagant  a 


THE   PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  321 


sum  would  never  be  granted. — "  That  I  was  neither  a  friend  nor 
relative  of  the  Prince,  but  a  mere  artist,  employed  to  execute 
certain  paintings.  That  I  had  nothing  to  offer  as  a  ransom,  but 
the  price  of  my  labors ;  if  this  were  not  sufficient,  my  life  was  at 
their  disposal ;  it  was  a  thing  on  which  I  set  but  little  value." 

I  was  the  more  hardy  in  my  reply,  because  I  saw  that  cool 
ness  and  hardihood  had  an  effect  upon  the  robbers.  It  is  true,  as 
I  finished  speaking,  the  captain  laid  his  hand  upon  his  stiletto ; 
but  he  restrained  himself,  and  snatching  the  letter,  folded  it,  and 
ordered  me  in  a  peremptory  tone  to  address  it  to  the  Prince-  He 
then  dispatched  one  of  the  laborers  with  it  to  Tusculum,  who 
promised  to  return  with  all  possible  speed. 

The  robbers  now  prepared  themselves  for  sleep,  and  I  was 
told  that  I  might  do  the  same.  They  spread  their  great  cloaks 
on  the  ground,  and  lay  down  around  me.  One  was  stationed  at 
a  little  distance  to  keep  watch,  and  was  relieved  every  two  hours. 
The  strangeness  and  wildness  of  this  mountain  bivouac  among 
lawless  beings,  whose  hands  seemed  ever  ready  to  grasp  the  sti 
letto,  and  with  whom  life  was  so  trivial  and  insecure,  was  enough 
to  banish  repose.  The  coldness  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  dew, 
however,  had  a  still  greater  effect  than  mental  causes  in  disturb 
ing  my  rest.  The  airs  wafted  to  these  mountains  from  the  dis 
tant  Mediterranean,  diffused  a  great  chilliness  as  the  night 
advanced.  An  expedient  suggested  itself.  I  called  one  of 
my  fellow-prisoners,  the  laborers,  and  made  him  lie  down  be 
side  me.  Whenever  one  of  my  limbs  became  chilled,  I  ap 
proached  it  to  the  robust  limb  of  my  neighbor,  and  borrowed 
some  of  his  warmth.  In  this  way  I  was  able  to  obtain  a  little 
sleep. 

Day  at  length  dawned,  and  I  was  roused  from  my  slumber  by 
U* 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


the  voice  of  the  chieftain.  He  desired  me  to  rise  and  follow 
him.  I  obeyed.  On  considering  his  physiognomy  attentively,  it 
appeared  a  little  softened.  He  even  assisted  me  in  scrambling  up 
the  steep  forest,  among  rocks  and  brambles.  Habit  had  made 
him  a  vigorous  mountaineer ;  but  I  found  it  excessively  toilsome 
to  climb  these  rugged  heights.  We  arrived  at  length  at  the 
summit  of  the  mountain. 

Here  it  was  that  I  felt  all  the  enthusiasm  of  my  art  suddenly 
awakened  ;  and  I  forgot  in  an  instant  all  my  perils  and  fatigues 
at  this  magnificent  view  of  the  sunrise  in  the  midst  of  the  moun 
tains  of  the  Abruzzi.  It  was  on  these  heights  that  Hannibal  first 
pitched  his  camp,  and  pointed  out  Rome  to  his  followers.  The 
eye  embraces  a  vast  extent  of  country.  The  minor  height  of 
Tusculum,  with  its  villas  and  its  sacred  ruins,  lie  below;  the 
Sabine  hills  and  the  Albanian  mountains  stretch  on  either  hand ; 
and  beyond  Tusculum  and  Frascati  spreads  out  the  immense  Cam- 
pagna,  with  its  lines  of  tombs,  and  here  and  there  a  broken  aque 
duct  stretching  across  it,  and  the  towers  and  domes  of  the  eternal 
city  in  the  midst. 

Fancy  this  scene  lit  up  by  the  glories  of  a  rising  sun,  and 
bursting  upon  my  sight  as  I  looked  forth  from  among  the  majestic 
forests  of  the  Abruzzi.  Fancy,  too,  the  savage  foreground,  made 
still  more  savage  by  groups  of  banditti,  armed  and  dressed  in  their 
wild  picturesque  manner,  and  you  will  not  wonder  that  the  enthu 
siasm  of  a  painter  for  a  moment  overpowered  all  his  other 
feelings. 

The  banditti  were  astonished  at  my  admiration  of  a  scene 
which  familiarity  had  made  so  common  in  their  eyes.  I  took 
advantage  of  their  halting  at  this  spot,  drew  forth  a  quire  of 
drawing-paper,  and  began  to  sketch  the  features  of  the  landscape. 


THE   PAINTER'S  ADVENTURE.  323 


The  height  on  which  I  was  seated  was  wild  and  solitary,  sepa 
rated  from  the  ridge  of  Tusculum  by  a  valley  nearly  three  miles 
wide,  though  the  distance  appeared  less  from  .the  purity  of  the 
atmosphere.  This  height  was  one  of  the  favorite  retreats  of  the 
banditti,  commanding  a  look-out  over  the  country ;  while  at  the 
same  time  it  was  covered  with  forests,  and  distant  from  the  popu 
lous  haunts  of  men. 

While  I  was  sketching,  my  attention  was  called  off  for  a  mo 
ment  by  the  cries  of  birds,  and  the  bleatings  of  sheep.  I  looked 
around,  but  could  see  nothing  of  the  animals  which  uttered  them. 
They  were  repeated,  and  appeared  to  come  from  the  summits  of 
the  trees.  On  looking  more  narrowly,  I  perceived  six  of  the 
robbers  perched  in  the  tops  of  oaks,  which  grew  on  the  breezy 
crest  of  the  mountain,  and  commanded  an  uninterrupted  prospect. 
They  were  keeping  a  look-out  like  so  many  vultures;  casting 
their  eyes  into  the  depths  of  the  valley  below  us  ;  communicating 
with  each  other  by  signs,  or  holding  discourse  in  sounds  which 
might  be  mistaken  by  the  wayfarer  for  the  cries  of  hawks  and 
crows,  or  the  bleating  of  the  mountain  flocks.  After  they  had 
reconnoitered  the  neighborhood,  and  finished  their  singular 
discourse,  they  descended  from  their  aiiy  perch,  and  returned  to 
their  prisoners.  The  captain  posted  three  of  them  at  three 
naked  sides  of  the  mountain,  while  he  remained  to  guard  us  with 
what  appeared  his  most  trusty  companion.* 

I  had  my  book  of  sketches  in  my  hand ;  he  requested  to  see 
it,  and  after  having  run  his  eye  over  it,  expressed  himself  con 
vinced  of  the  truth  of  my  assertion  that  I  was  a  painter.  I 
thought  I  saw  a  gleam  of  good  feeling  dawning  in  him,  and  deter 
mined  to  avail  myself  of  it.  I  knew  that  the  worst  of  men  have 
their  good  points  and  their  accessible  sides,  if  one  would  but  study 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


them  carefully.  Indeed,  there  is  a  singular  mixture  in  the  cha 
racter  of  the  Italian  robber.  With  reckless  ferocity  he  often 
mingles  traits  of,  kindness  and  good-humor.  He  is  not  always 
radically  bad;  but  driven  to  his  course  of  life  by  some  unpre 
meditated  crime,  the  effect  of  those  sudden  bursts  of  passion  to 
which  the  Italian  temperament  is  prone.  This  has  compelled 
him  to  take  to  the  mountains,  or,  as  it  is  technically  termed  among 
them,  "  andare  in  campagna."  He  has  become  a  robber  by  pro 
fession  ;  but,  like  a  soldier,  when  not  in  action  he  can  lay  aside 
his  weapon  and  his  fierceness,  and  become  like  other  men. 

I  took  occasion,  from  the  observations  of  the  captain  on  my 
sketchings,  to  fall  into  conversation  with  him,  and  found  him 
sociable  and  communicative.  By  degrees  I  became  completely 
at  my  ease  with  him.  I  had  fancied  I  perceived  about  him 
a  degree  of  self-love,  which  I  determined  to  make  use  of.  I  as 
sumed  an  air  of  careless  frankness,  and  told  him,  that,  as  an 
artist,  I  pretended  to  the  power  of  judging  of  the  physiognomy ; 
that  I  thought  I  perceived  something  in  his  features  and  demeanor 
which  announced  him  worthy  of  higher  fortunes  ;  that  he  was  not 
formed  to  exercise  the  profession  to  which  he  had  abandoned 
himself;  that  he  had  talents  and  qualities  fitted  for  a  nobler 
sphere  of  action ;  that  he  had  but  to  change  his  course  of  life, 
and,  in  a  legitimate  career,  the  same  courage  and  endowments 
which  now  made  him  «,n  object  of  terror,  would  assure  him  the 
applause  and  admiration  of  society. 

I  had  not  mistaken  my  man ;  my  discourse  both  touched 
and  excited  him.  He  seized  my  hand,  pressed  it,  and  replied 
with  strong  emotion — "  You  have  guessed  the  truth ;  you  have 
judged  of  me  rightly."  He  remained  for  a  moment  silent ;  then 
with  a  kind  of  effort,  he  resumed — "  I  will  tell  you  some  particu- 


THE   PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  325 


lars  of  my  life,  and  you  will  perceive  that  it  was  the  oppression 
of  others,  rather  than  my  own  crimes,  which  drove  me  to  the 
mountains.  I  sought  to  serve  my  fellow-men,  and  they  have  per 
secuted  me  from  among  them."  We  seated  ourselves  on  the 
grass,  and  the  robber  gave  me  the  following  anecdotes  of  his 
history. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  BANDIT  CHIEFTAIN. 

I  AM  a  native  of  the  village  of  Prossedi.  My  father  was  easy 
enough  in  circumstances,  and  we  lived  peaceably  and  independ 
ently,  cultivating  our  fields.  All  went  on  well  with  us  until  a 
new  chief  of  the  Sbirri  was  sent  to  our  village  to  take  command 
of  the  police.  He  was  an  arbitrary  fellow,  prying  into  every 
thing,  and  practising  all  sorts  of  vexations  and  oppressions  in  the 
discharge  of  his  'office.  I  was  at  that  time  eighteen  years  of  age, 
and  had  a  natural  love  of  justice  and  good  neighborhood.  I  had 
also  a  little  education,  and  knew  something  of  history,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  judge  a  little  of  men  and  their  actions.  All  this  inspired 
me  with  hatred  for  this  paltry  despot.  My  own  family,  also,  be 
came  the  object  of  his  suspicion  or  dislike,  and  felt  more  than 
once  the  arbitrary  abuse  of  his  power.  These  things  worked 
together  in  my  mind,  and  I  gasped  after  vengeance.  My  charac 
ter  was  always  ardent  and  energetic,  and,  acted  upon  by  the  love 
of  justice,  determined  me,  by  one  blow,  to  rid  the  country  of  the 
tyrant. 

Full  of  my  project,  I  rose  one  morning  before  peep  of  day, 
and  concealing  a  stiletto  under  my  waistcoat— here  you  see  it ! — 
(and  he  drew  forth  a  long  keen  poniard)  I  lay  in  wait  for  him  in 
the  outskirts  of  the  village.  I  knew  all  his  haunts,  and  his  habit 
of  making  his  rounds  and  prowling  about  like  a  wolf  in  the  gray 


THE  BANDIT   CHIEFTAIN.  327 


of  the  morning.  At  length  I  met  him,  and  attacked  him  with 
fury.  He  was  armed,  but  I  took  him  unawares,  and  was  full  of 
youth  and  vigor.  I  gave  him  repeated  blows  to  make  sure  work, 
and  laid  him  lifeless  at  my  feet. 

When  I  was  satisfied  that  I  had  done  for  him,  I  returned 
with  all  haste  to  the  village,  but  had  the  ill  luck  to  meet  two  of 
the  Sbirri  as  I  entered  it.  They  accosted  me,  and  asked  if  I  had 
seen  their  chief.  I  assumed  an  air  of  tranquillity,  and  told  them 
I  had  not.  They  continued  on  their  way,  and  within  a  few  hours 
brought  back  the  dead  body  to  Prossedi.  Their  suspicions  of  me 
being  already  awakened,  I  was  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison. 
Here  I  lay  several  weeks,  when  the  Prince,  who  was  Seigneur 
of  Prossedi,  directed  judicial  proceedings  against  me.  I  was 
brought  to  trial,  and  a  witness  was  produced,  who  pretended  to 
have  seen  me  flying  with  precipitation  not  far  from  the  bleeding 
body ;  and  so  I  was  condemned  to  the  galleys  for  thirty  years. 

"  Curse  on  such  laws  !"  vociferated  the  bandit,  foaming  with 
rage :  "  Curse  on  such  a  government !  and  ten  thousand  curses 
on  the  Prince  who  caused  me  to  be  adjudged  so  rigorously,  while 
so  many  other  Roman  princes  harbor  and  protect  assassins  a 
thousand  times  more  culpable  !  What  had  I  done  but  what  was 
inspired  by  a  love  of  justice  and  my  country  ?  Why  was  my 
act  more  culpable  than  that  of  Brutus,  when  he  sacrificed  Caesar 
to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  justice  ?" 

There  was  something  at  once  both  lofty  and  ludicrous  in  the 
rhapsody  of  this  robber  chief,  thus  associating  himself  with  one 
of  the  great  names  of  antiquity.  It  showed,  however,  that  he 
had  at  least  the  merit  of  knowing  the  remarkable  facts  in  the  his 
tory  of  his  country.  He  became  more  calm,  and  resumed  his 
narrative.  1 


328  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


I  was  conducted  to  Civita  Vecchia  in  fetters.  My  heart  was 
burning  with  rage.  I  had  been  married  scarce  six  months  to  a 
woman  whom  I  passionately  loved,  and  who  was  pregnant.  _.  My 
family  was  in  despair.  For  a  long  time  I  made  unsuccessful 
efforts  to  break  my  chain.  At  length  I  found  a  morsel  of  iron, 
which  I  hid  carefully,  and  endeavored,  with  a  pointed  flint,  to 
fashion  it  into  a  kind  of  file.  I  occupied  myself  in  this  work 
during  the  night-time,  and  when  it  was  finished,  I  made  out,  after 
a  long  time,  to  sever  one  of  the  rings  of  my  chain.  My  flight 
was  successful. 

I  wandered  for  several  weeks  in  the  mountains  which  sur 
round  Prossedi,  and  found  means  to  inform  my  wife  of  the  place 
where  I  was  concealed.  She  came  often  to  see  me.  I  had  de 
termined  to  put  myself  at  the  head  of  an  armed  band.  She 
endeavored,  for  a  long  time,  to  dissuade  me,  but  finding  my  reso 
lution  fixed,  she  at  length  united  in  my  project  of  vengeance,  and 
brought  me,  herself,  my  poniard.  By  her  means  I  communicated 
with  several  brave  fellows  of  the  neighboring  villages,  whom  I 
knew  to  be  ready  to  take  to  the  mountains,  and  only  panting  for 
an  opportunity  to  exercise  their  daring  spirits.  We  soon  formed 
a  combination,  procured  arms,  and  we  have  had  ample  opportuni 
ties  of  revenging  ourselves  for  the  wrongs  and  injuries  which 
most  of  us  have  suffered.  Every  thing  has  succeeded  with  us 
until  now,  and  had  it  not  been  for  our  blunder  in  mistaking  you 
for  the  Prince,  our  fortunes  would  have  been  made. 


Here  the  robber  concluded  his  story.     He  had  talked  himself 
into  complete  companionship,  and  assured  me  he  no  longer  bore 


THE  PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  329 


me  any  grudge  for  the  error  of  which  I  had  been  the  innocent 
cause.  He  even  professed  a  kindness  for  me,  and  wished  me  to 
remain  some  time  with  them.  He  promised  to  give  me  a  sight 
of  certain  grottos  which  they  occupied  beyond  Villetri,  and 
whither  they  resorted  during  the  intervals  of  their  expeditions. 

He  assured  me  that  they  led  a  jovial  life  there ;  had  plenty 
of  good  cheer ;  slept  on  beds  of  moss ;  and  were  waited  upon  by 
young  and  beautiful  females,  whom  I  might  take  for  models. 

I  confess  I  felt  my  curiosity  roused  by  his  descriptions  of  the 
grottos  and  their  inhabitants  :  they  realized  those  scenes  in  rob 
ber  story  which  I  had  always  looked  upon  as  mere  creations  of 
the  fancy.  I  should  gladly  have  accepted  his  invitation,  and 
paid  a  visit  to  these  caverns,  could  I  have  felt  more  secure  in  my 
company, 

I  began  to  find  my  situation  less  painful.  I  had  evidently 
propitiated  the  good  will  of  the  chieftain,  and  hoped  that  he  might 
release  me  for  a  moderate  ransom.  A  new  alarm,  however, 
awaited  me.  While  the.  captain  was  looking  out  with  impatience 
for  the  return  of  the  messenger  who  had  been  sent  to  the  Prince^ 
the  sentinel  posted  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  facing  the  plain 
of  La  Molara  came  running  towards  us.  "  We  are  betrayed  !" 
exclaimed  he.  "  The  police  of  Frascati  are  after  us.  A  party 
of  carabineers  have  just  stopped  at  the  inn  below  the  mountain." 
Then,  laying  his  hand  on  his  stiletto,  he  swore,  with  a  terrible 
oath,  that  if  they  made  the  least  movement  towards  the  moun 
tain,  my  life  and  the  lives  of  my  fellow-prisoners  should  answer 
for  it. 

The  chieftain  resumed  all  his  ferocity  of  demeanor,  and  ap 
proved  of  what  his  companion  said ;  but  when  the  latter  had 
returned  to  his  post,  he  turned  to  me  with  a  softened  air :  "  I 


330  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


must  act  as  chief/'  said  he,  "  and  humor  my  dangerous  subal 
terns.  It  is  a  law  with  us  to  kill  our  prisoners  rather  than  suffer 
them  to  be  rescued;  but  do  not  be  alarmed.  In  case  we  are 
surprised,  keep  by  me ;  fly  with  us,  and  I  will  consider  myself 
responsible  for  your  life." 

There  was  nothing  very  consolatory  in  this  arrangement, 
which  would  have  placed  me  between  two  dangers.  I  scarcely 
knew,  in  case  of  flight,  from  which  I  should  have  the  most  to  ap 
prehend,  the  carbines  of  the  pursuers,  or  the  stilettos  of  the 
pursued.  I  remained  silent,  however,  and  endeavored  to  main 
tain  a  look  of  tranquillity. 

For  an  hour  was  I  kept  in  this  state  of  peril  and  anxiety.  The 
robbers,  crouching  among  their  leafy  coverts,  kept  an  eagle  watch 
upon  the  carabineers  below,  as  they  loitered  about  ihe  inn ; 
sometimes  lolling  about  the  portal ;  sometimes  disappearing  for 
several  minutes;  then  sallying  out,  examining  their  weapons, 
pointing  in  different  directions,  and  apparently  asking  questions 
about  the  neighborhood.  Not  a  movement,  a  gesture,  was  lost 
upon  the  keen  eyes  of  the  brigands.  At  length  we  were  relieved 
from  our  apprehensions.  The  carabineers  having  finished  their 
refreshment,  seized  their  arms,  continued  along  the  valley  towards 
*the  great  road,  and  gradually  left  the  mountain  behind  them. 
"  I  felt  almost  certain,"  said  the  chief,  "  that  they  could  not  be 
sent  after  us.  They  know  too  well  how  prisoners  have  fared  in 
our  hands  on  similar  occasions.  Our  laws  in  this  respect  are 
inflexible,  and  are  necessary  for  our  safety.  If  we  once  flinched 
from  them,  there  would  no  longer  be  such  a  thing  as  a  ransom  to 
be  procured." 

There  were  no  signs  yet  of  the  messenger's  return.  I  was 
preparing  to  resume  my  sketching,  when  the  captain  drew  a  quire 


THE  PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  331 


of  paper  from  his  knapsack.  "  Come,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  you 
are  a  painter, — take  my  likeness.  The  leaves  of  your  port-folio 
are  small, — draw  it  on  this."  I  gladly  consented,  for  it  was  a 
study  that  seldom  presents  itself  to  a  painter.  I  recollected  that 
Salvator  Rosa  in  his  youth  had  voluntarily  sojourned  for  a  time 
among  the  banditti  of  Calabria,  and  had  filled  his  mind  with  the 
savage  scenery  and  savage  associates  by  which  he  was  surrounded. 
I  seized  my  pencil  with  enthusiasm  at  the  thought.  I  found  the 
captain  the  most  docile  of  subjects,  and,  after  various  shiftings  of 
position,  placed  him  in  an  attitude  to  my  mind. 

Picture  to  yourself  a  stern  muscular  figure,  in  fanciful  bandit 
costume  ;  with  pistols  and  poniards  in  belt ;  his  brawny  neck 
bare ;  a  handkerchief  loosely  thrown  round  it,  and  the  two  ends 
in  front  strung  with  rings  of  all  kinds,  the  spoils  of  travellers ; 
relics  and  medals  hanging  on  his  breast ;  his  hat  decorated  with 
various  colored  ribands ;  his  vest  and  short  breeches  of  bright 
colors  and  finely  embroidered ;  his  legs  in  buskins  or  leggins. 
Fancy  him  on  a  mountain  height,  among  wild  rocks  and  rugged 
oaks,  leaning  on  his  carbine,  as  if  meditating  some  exploit ;  while 
far  below  are  beheld  villages  and  villas,  the  scenes  of  his  ma 
raudings,  with  the  wide  Campagna  dimly  extending  in  the  dis 
tance. 

The  robber  was  pleased  with  the  sketch,  and  seemed  to  ad 
mire  himself  upon  paper.  I  had  scarcely  finished,  when  the 
laborer  arrived  who  had  been  sent  for  my  ransom.  He  had 
reached  Tusculum  two  hours  after  midnight.  He  brought  me  a 
letter  from  the  Prince,  who  was  in  bed  at  the  time  of  his  arrival. 
As  I  had  predicted,  he  treated  the  demand  as  extravagant,  but 
offered  five  hundred  dollars  for  my  ransom.  Having  no  money 
by  him  at  the  moment,  he  had  sent  a  note  for  the  amount,  paya- 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


ble  to  whomsoever  should  conduct  me  safe  and  sound  to  Rome. 
I  presented  the  note  of  hand  to  the  chieftain  ;  he  received  it  with 
a  shrug.  "  Of  what  use  are  notes  of  hand  to  us  ?"  said  he. 
"  Who  can  we  send  with  you  to  Rome  to  receive  it  ?  We  are 
all  marked  men  ;  known  and  described  at  every  gate  and  military 
post  and  village  church  door.  No  ;  we  must  have  gold  and 
silver ;  let  the  sum  be  paid  in  cash,  and  you  shall  be  restored  to 
liberty." 

The  captain  again  placed  a  sheet  of  paper  before  me  to  com 
municate  his  determination  to  the  Prince.  When  I  had  finished 
the  letter,  and  took  the  sheet  from  the  quire,  I  found  on  the  op 
posite  side  of  it  the  portrait  which  I  had  just  been  tracing.  I 
was  about  to  tear  it  off  and  give  it  to  the  chief. 

"  Hold !"  said  he,  "  let  it  go  to  Rome  ;  let  them  see  what  kind 
of  looking  fellow  I  am.  Perhaps  the  Prince  and  his  friends  may 
form  as  good  an  opinion  of  me  from  my  face  as  you  have  done." 

This  was  said  sportively,  yet  it  was  evident  there  was  vanity 
lurking  at  the  bottom^  Even  this  wary,  distrustful  chief  of  ban 
ditti  forgot  for  a  moment  his  usual  foresight  and  precaution,  in 
the  common  wish  to  be  admired.  He  never  reflected  what  use 
might  be  made  of  this  portrait  in  his  pursuit  and  conviction. 

The  letter  was  folded  and  directed,  and  the  messenger  departed 
again  for  Tusculum.  It  was  now  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  as  yet  we  had  eaten  nothing.  In  spite  of  all  my  anxiety,  I 
began  to  feel  a  craving  appetite.  I  was  glad  therefore  to  hear 
the  captain  talk  something  about  eating.  He  observed  that  for 
three  days  and  nights  they  had  been  lurking  about  among 
rocks  and  woods,  meditating  their  expedition  to  Tusculum,  during 
which  time  all  their  provisions  had  been  exhausted.  He  should 
now  take  measures  to  procure  a  supply.  Leaving  me  therefore 


THE   PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  333 


in  charge  of  his  comrade,  in  whom  he  appeared  to  have  implicit 
confidence,  he  departed,  assuring  me  that  in  less  than  two  hours  we 
should  make  a  good  dinner.  Where  it  was  to  come  from  was  an 
enigma  to  me,  though  it  was  evident  these  beings  had  their  secret 
friends  and  agents  throughout  the  country. 

Indeed,  the  inhabitants  of  these  mountains,  and  of  the  valleys 
which  they  embosom,  are  a  rude,  half-civilized  set.  The  towns 
and  villages  among  the  forests  of  the  Abruzzi,  shut  up  from  the 
rest  of  the  world,  are  almost  like  savage  dens.  It  is  wonderful 
that  such  rude  abodes,  so  little  known  and  visited,  should  be 
embosomed  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  most  travelled  and  civilized 
countries  of  Europe.  Among  these  regions  the  robber  prowls 
unmolested ;  not  a  mountaineer  hesitates  to  give  him  secret  har 
bor  and  assistance.  The  shepherds,  however,  who  tend  their 
flocks  among  the  mountains,  are  the  favorite  emissaries  of  the 
robbers,  when  they  would  send  messages  down  to  the  valleys 
either  for  ransom  or  supplies. 

The  shepherds  of  the  Abruzzi  are  as  wild  as  the  scenes  they 
frequent.  They  are  clad  in  a  rude  garb  of  black  or  brown  sheep 
skin  ;  they  have  high  conical  hats,  and  coarse  sandals  of  cloth 
bound  round  their  legs  with  thongs,  similar  to  those  worn  by  the 
robbers.  They  carry  long  staves,  on  which,  as  they  lean,  they 
form  picturesque  objects  in  the  lonely  landscape,  and  they  are 
followed  by  their  ever-constant  companion,  the  dog.  They  are  a 
curious,  questioning  set,  glad  at  any  time  to  relieve  the  monotony 
of  their  solitude  by  the  conversation  of  the  passer-by ;  and  the 
dog  will  lend  an  attentive  ear,  and  put  on  as  sagacious  and 
inquisitive  a  look  as  his  master. 

But  I  am  wandering  from  my  story.  I  was  now  left  alone 
with  one  of  the  robbers,  the  confidential  companion  of  the  chief. 


334  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


He  was  the  youngest  and  most  vigorous  of  the  band ;  and  though 
his  countenance  had  something  of  that  dissolute  fierceness  which 
seems  natural  to  this  desperate,  lawless  mode  of  life,  yet  there 
were  traces  of  manly  beauty  about  it.  As  an  artist  I  could  not 
but  admire  it.  I  had  remarked  in  him  an  air  of  abstraction  and 
reverie,  and  at  times  a  movement  of  inward  suffering  and  impa 
tience.  He  now  sat  on  the  ground,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  his 
head  resting  between  his  clinched  fists,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
earth  with  an  expression  of  sad  and  bitter  rumination.  I  had 
grown  familiar  with  him  from  repeated  conversations,  and  had 
found  him  superior  in  mind  to  the  rest  of  the  band.  I  was  anx 
ious  to  seize  any  opportunity  of  sounding  the  feelings  of  these 
singular  beings.  I  fancied  I  read  in  the  countenance  of  this  one 
traces  of  self-condemnation  and  remorse ;  and  the  ease  with 
which  I  had  drawn  forth  the  confidence  of  the  chieftain  encour 
aged  me  to  hope  the  same  with  his  follower. 

After  a  little  preliminary  conversation,  I  ventured  to  ask  him 
if  he  did  not  feel  regret  at  having  abandoned  his  family,  and 
taken  to  this  dangerous  profession.  "  I  feel,"  replied  he,  "  but 
one  regret,  and  that  will  end  only  with  my  life." 

As  he  said  this,  he  pressed  his  clinched  fists  upon  his  bosom, 
drew  his  breath  through  his  set  teeth,  and  added,  with  a  deep 
emotion,  "  I  have  something  within  here  that  stifles  me ;  it  is  like 
a  burning  iron  consuming  my  very  heart.  I  could  tell  you  a 
miserable  story — but  not  now — another  time." 

He  relapsed  into  his  former  position,  and  sat  with  his  head 
between  his  hands,  muttering  to  himself  in  broken  ejaculations, 
and  what  appeared  at  times  to  be  curses  and  maledictions.  I  saw 
he  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  disturbed,  so  I  left  him  to  himself. 
In  a  little  while  the  exhaustion  of  his  feelings,  and  probably  the 


THE  PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  335 


fatigues  he  had  undergone  in  this  expedition,  began  to  produce 
drowsiness.  He  struggled  with  it  for  a  time,  but  the  warmth  and 
stillness  of  mid-day  made  it  irresistible,  and  he  at  length  stretched 
himself  upon  the  herbage  and  fell  asleep. 

I  now  beheld  a  chance  of  escape  within  my  reach.  My 
guard  lay  before  me  at  my  mercy.  His  vigorous  limbs  relaxed 
by  sleep — his  bosom  open  for  the  blow — his  carbine  slipped  from 
his  nerveless  grasp,  and  lying  by  his  side — his  stiletto  half  out  of 
the  pocket  in  which  it  was  usually  carried.  Two  only  of  his 
comrades  were  in  sight,  and  those  at  a  considerable  distance  on 
the  edge  of  the  mountain,  their  backs  turned  to  us,  and  their 
attention  occupied  in  keeping  a  look-out  upon  the  plain.  Through 
a  strip  of  intervening  forest,  and  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  descent,  I 
beheld  the  village  of  Rocca  Priori.  To  have  secured  the  carbine 
of  the  sleeping  brigand ;  to  have  seized  upon  his  poniard,  and 
have  plunged  it  in  his  heart,  would  have  been  the  work  of  an 
instant.  Should  he  die  without  noise,  I  might  dart  through  the 
forest,  and  down  to  Rocca  Priori  before  my  flight  might  be 
discovered.  In  case  of  alarm,  I  should  still  have  a  fair  start  of 
the  robbers,  and  a  chance  of  getting  beyond  the  reach  of  their  shot. 

Here  then  was  an  opportunity  for  both  escape  and  vengeance  ; 
perilous  indeed,  but  powerfully  tempting.  Had  my  situation  been 
more  critical  I  could  not  have  resisted  it.  I  reflected,  however, 
for  a  moment.  The  attempt,  if  successful,  would  be  followed  by 
the  sacrifice  of  my  two  fellow-prisoners,  who  were  sleeping  pro 
foundly,  and  could  not  be  awakened  in  time  to  escape.  The 
laborer  who  had  gone  after  the  ransom  might  also  fall  a  victim  to 
the  rage  of  the  robbers,  without  the  money  which  he  brought 
being  saved.  Besides,  the  conduct  of  the  chief  towards  me  made 
me  feel  confident  of  speedy  deliverance.  These  reflections  over- 


336  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


came  the  first  powerful  impulse,  and  I  calmed  the  turbulent  agita 
tion  which  it  had  awakened. 

""  I  again  took  out  my  materials  for  drawing,  and  amused  my 
self  with  sketching  the  magnificent  prospect.  It  was  now  about 
noon,  and  every  thing  had  sunk  into  repose,  like  the  sleeping  ban 
dit  before  me.  The  noontide  stillness  that  reigned  over  these 
mountains,  the  vast  landscape  below,  gleaming  with  distant  towns, 
and  dotted  with  various  habitations  and  signs  of  life,  yet  all  so 
silent,  had  a  powerful  effect  upon  my  mind.  The  intermediate 
valleys,  too,  which  lie  among  the  mountains,  have  a  peculiar  air 
of  solitude.  Few  sounds  are  heard  at  mid-day  to  break  the 
quiet  of  the  scene.  Sometimes  the  whistle  of  a  solitary  muleteer, 
lagging  with  his  lazy  animal  along  the  road  which  winds  through 
the  centre  of  the  valley ;  sometimes  the  faint  piping  of  a  shep 
herd's  reed  from  the  side  of  the  mountain,  or  sometimes  the  bell 
of  an  ass  slowly  pacing  along,  followed  by  a  monk  with  bare  feet, 
and  bare,  shining  head,  and  carrying  provisions  to  his  convent. 

I  had  continued  to  sketch  for  some  time  among  my  sleeping 
companions,  when  at  length  I  saw  the  captain  of  the  band  ap 
proaching,  followed  by  a  peasant  leading  a  mule,  on  which  was  a 
well-filled  sack.  I  at  first  apprehended  that  this  was  some  new 
prey  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  robbers;  but  the  contented  look 
of  the  peasant  soon  relieved  me,  and  I  was  rejoiced  to  hear  that 
it  was  our  promised  repast.  The  brigands  now  came  running 
from  the  three  sides  of  the  mountain,  having  the  quick  scent  of 
vultures.  Every  one  busied  himself  in  unloading  the  mule,  and 
relieving  the  sack  of  its  contents. 

The  first  thing  that  made  its  appearance  was  an  enormous 
ham,  of  a  color  and  plumpness  that  would  have  inspired  the  pen 
cil  of  Teniers  ;  it  was  followed  by  a  large  cheese,  a  bag  of  boiled 


THE   PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  .    337 

chestnuts,  a  little  barrel  of  wine,  and  a  quantity  of  good  house 
hold  bread.  Every  thing  was  arranged  on  the  grass  with  a 
degree  of  symmetry ;  and  the  captain,  presenting  me  with  his 
knife,  requested  me  to  help  myself.  We  all  seated  ourselves 
round  the  viands,  and  nothing  was  heard  for  a  time  but  the  sound 
of  vigorous  mastication,  or  the  gurgling  of  the  barrel  of  wine  as 
it  revolved  briskly  about  the  circle.  My  long  fasting,  and  the 
mountain  air  and  exercise,  had  given  me  a  keen  appetite ;  and 
never  did  repast  appear  to  me  more  excellent  or  picturesque. 

From  time  to  time  one  of  the  band  was  dispatched  to  keep  a 
look-out  upon  the  plain.  No  enemy  was  at  hand,  and  the  dinner 
was  undisturbed.  The  peasant  received  nearly  three  times  the 
value  of  his  provisions,  and  set  off  down  the  mountain  highly 
satisfied  with  his  bargain.  I  felt  invigorated  by  the  hearty  meal  I 
had  made,  and  notwithstanding  that  the  wound  I  had  received  the 
evening  before  was  painful,  yet  I  could  not  but  feel  extremely  inter 
ested  and  gratified  by  the  singular  scenes  continually  presented  to 
me.  Every  thing  was  picturesque  about  these  wild  beings  and 
their  haunts.  Their  bivouacs  ;  their  groups  on  guard  ;  their  indo 
lent  noontide  repose  on  the  mountain-brow  ;  their  rude  repast  on 
the  herbage  among  rocks  and  trees  ;  every  thing  presented  a 
study  for  a  painter :  but  it  was  towards  the  approach  of  evening 
that  I  felt  the  highest  enthusiasm  awakened. 

The  setting  sun,  declining  beyond  the  vast  Campagna,  shed 
its  rich  yellow  beams  on  the  woody  summit  of  the  Abruzzi. 
Several  mountains  crowned  with  snow  shone  brilliantly  in  the 
distance,  contrasting  their  brightness  with  others,  which,  thrown 
into  shade,  assumed  deep  tints  of  purple  and  violet.  As  the 
evening  advanced,  the  landscape  darkened  into  a  sterner  charac 
ter.  The  immense  solitude  around ;  the  wild  mountains  broken 

15 


338  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


into  rocks  and  precipices,  intermingled  with  vast  oaks,  corks,  and 
chestnuts ;  and  the  groups  of  banditti  in  the  foreground,  reminded 
me  of  the  savage  scenes  of  Salvator  Rosa. 

To  beguile  the  time,  the  captain  proposed  to  his  comrades  to 
spread  before  me  their  jewels  and  cameos,  as  I  must  doubtless  be 
a  judge  of  such  articles,  and  able  to  form  an  estimate  of  their 
value.  He  set  the  example,  the  others  followed  it ;  and  in  a  few 
moments  I  saw  the  grass  before  me  sparkling  with  jewels  and 
gems  that  would  have  delighted-  the  eyes  of  an  antiquary  or  a 
fine  lady. 

Among  them  were  several  precious  jewels,  and  antique  in 
taglios  and  cameos  of  great  value  ;  the  spoils,  doubtless,  of  trav 
ellers  of  distinction.  I  found  that  they  were  in  the  habit  of 
selling  their  booty  in  the  frontier  towns  ;  but  as  these  in  general 
were  thinly  and  poorly  peopled,  and  little  frequented  by  travellers, 
they  could  offer  no  market  for  such  valuable  articles  of  taste  and 
luxury.  I  suggested  to  them  the  certainty  of  their  readily  ob 
taining  great  prices  for  these  gems  among  the  rich  strangers  with 
whom  Rome  was  thronged. 

The  impression  made  upon  their  greedy  minds  was  immedi 
ately  apparent.  One  of  the  band,  a  young  man,  and  the  least 
known,  requested  permission  of  the  captain  to  depart  the  follow 
ing  day,  in  disguise,  for  Rome,  for  the  purpose  of  traffic  ;  promis 
ing,  on  the  faith  of  a  bandit,  (a  sacred  pledge  among  them,)  to 
return  in  two  days  to  any  place  he  might  appoint.  The  captain 
consented,  and  a  curious  scene  took  place  ;  the  robbers  crowded 
round  him  eagerly,  confiding  to  him  such  of  their  jewels  as  they 
wished  to  dispose  of,  and  giving  him  instructions  what  to  demand. 
There  was  much  bargaining  and  exchanging  and  selling  of  trin 
kets  among  them  ;  and  I  beheld  my  watch,  which  had  a  chain 


THE   PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  339 


and  valuable  seals,  purchased  by  the  young  robber-merchant  of 
the  ruffian  who  had  plundered  me,  for  sixty  dollars.  I  now  con 
ceived  a  faint  hope,  that  if  it  went  to  Rome,  I  might  somehow  or 
other  regain  possession  of  it.* 

In  the  meantime  day  declined,  and  no  messenger  returned 
from  Tusculum.  The  idea  of  passing  another  night  in  the  woods 
was  extremely  disheartening,  for  I  began  to  be  satisfied  with  what 
I  had  seen  of  robber-life.  The  chieftain  now  ordered  his  men  to 
follow  him  that  he  might  station  them  at  their  posts  ;  adding,  that 
if  the  messenger  did  not  return  before  night,  they  must  shift 
their  quarters  to  some  other  place. 

I  was  again  left  alone  with  the  young  bandit  who  had  before 
guarded  me  ;  he  had  the  same  gloomy  air  and  haggard  eye,  with 
now  and  then  a  bitter  sardonic  smile.  I  was  determined  to  probe 
this  ulcerated  heart,  and  reminded  him  of  a  kind  promise  he  had 
given  me  to  tell  me  the  cause  of  his  suffering.  It  seemed  to  me 
as  if  these  troubled  spirits  were  glad  of  any  opportunity  to  dis 
burden  themselves,  and  of  having  some  fresh,  undiseased  mind, 
with  which  they  could  communicate.  I  had  hardly  made  the  re 
quest,  when  he  seated  himself  by  my  side,  and  gave  me  his  story 
in,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  the  following  words. 

*  The  hopes  of  the  artist  were  not  disappointed — the  robber  was  stopped 
at  one  of  the  gates  of  Rome.  Something  in  his  looks  or  deportment  had  ex 
cited  suspicion.  He  was  searched,  and  the  valuable  trinkets  found  on  him 
sufficiently  evinced  his  character.  On  applying  to  the  police,  the  artist's  watch 
was  returned  to  him. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  YOUNG  ROBBER. 

I  WAS  born  in  the  little  town  of  Frosinone,  which  lies  at  the 
skirts  of  the  Abruzzi.  My  father  had  made  a  little  property  in 
trade,  and  gave  me  some  education,  as  he  intended  me  for  the 
church  ;  but  I  had  kept  gay  company  too  much  to  relish  the  cowl, 
so  I  grew  up  a  loiterer  about  the  place.  I  was  a  heedless  fellow, 
a  little  quarrelsome  on  occasion,  but  good-humored  in  the  main  ; 
so  I  made  my  way  very  well  for  a  time,  until  I  fell  in  love.  There 
lived  in  our  town  a  surveyor  or  land-bailiff  of  the  prince,  who 
had  a  young  daughter,  a  beautiful  girl  of  sixteen  ;  she  was  looked 
upon  as  something  better  than  the  common  run  of  our  townsfolk, 
and  was  kept  almost  entirely  at  home.  I  saw  her  occasionally, 
and  became  madly  in  love  with  her — she  looked  so  fresh  and 
tender,  and  so  different  from  the  sunburnt  females  to  whom  I  had 
been  accustomed. 

As  my  father,  kept  me  in  money,  I  always  dressed  well,  and 
took  all  opportunities  of  showing  myself  off  to  advantage  in  the 
eyes  of  the  little  beauty.  I  used  to  see  her  at  church  ;  and  as  I 
could  play  a  little  upon  the  guitar,  I  gave  a  tune  sometimes  under 
her  window  of  an  evening ;  and  I  tried  to  have  interviews  with 
her  in  her  father's  vineyard,  not  far  from  the  town,  where  she 
sometimes  walked.  She  was  evidently  pleased  with  me,  but  she 
was  young  and  shy ;  and  her  father  kept  a  strict  eye  upon  her, 
and  took  alarm  at  my  attentions,  for  he  had  a  bad  opinion  of  me, 


THE   YOUNG   ROBBER.  341 


and  looked  for  a  better  match  for  his  daughter.  I  became  furious 
at  the  difficulties  thrown  in  my  way,  having  been  accustomed 
always  to  easy  success  among  the  women,  being  considered  one 
of  the  smartest  young  fellows  of  the  place. 

Her  father  brought  home  a  suitor  for  her,  a  rich  farmer  from 
a  neighboring  town.  The  wedding-day  was  appointed,  and  pre 
parations  were  making.  I  got  sight  of  her  at  her  window,  and  I 
thought  she  looked  sadly  at  me.  I  determined  the  match  should 
not  take  place,  cost  what  it  might.  I  met  her  intended  bride 
groom  in  the  market-place,  and  could  not  restrain  the  expression 
of  my  rage.  A  few  hot  words  passed  between  us,  when  I  drew 
my  stiletto  and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart.  I  fled  to  a  neighboring 
church  for  refuge,  and  with  a  little  money  I  obtained  absolution, 
but  I  did  not  dare  to  venture  from  my  asylum. 

At  -that  time  our  captain  was  forming  his  troop.  He  had 
known  me  from  boyhood ;  and  hearing  of  my  situation,  came  to 
me  in  secret,  and  made  such  offers,  that  I  agreed  to  enroll  myself 
among  his  followers.  Indeed,  I  had  more  than  once  thought  of 
taking  to  this  mode  of  life,  having  known  several  brave  fellows 
of  the  mountains,  who  used  to  spend  their  money  freely  among 
us  youngsters  of  the  town.  I  accordingly  left  my  asylum  late 
one  night,  repaired  to  the  appointed  place  of  meeting,  took  the 
oaths  prescribed,  and  became  one  of  the  troop.  We  were  for 
some  time  in  a  distant  part  of  the  mountains,  and  our  wild  adven 
turous  kind  of  life  hit  my  fancy  wonderfully,  and  diverted  my 
thoughts.  At  length  they  returned  with  all  their  violence  to  the 
recollection  of  Rosetta ;  the  solitude  in  which  I  often  found  myself 
gave  me  time  to  brood  over  her  image  ;  and,  as  I  have  kept  watch 
at  night  over  our  sleeping  camp  in  the  mountains,  my  feelings 
have  been  roused  almost  to  a  fever. 


342  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


At  length  we  shifted  our  ground,  and  determined  to  make  a 
descent  upon  the  road  between  Terracina  and  Naples.  In  the 
course  of  our  expedition  we  passed  a  day  or  two  in  the  woody 
mountains  which  rise  above  Frosinone.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I 
felt  when  I  looked  down  upon  the  place,  and  distinguished  the 
residence  of  Rosetta.  I  determined  to  have  an  interview  with 
her ; — bfit  to  what  purpose  ?  I  could  not  expect  that  she  would 
quit  her  home,  and  accompany  me  in  my  hazardous  life  among 
the  mountains.  She  had  been  brought  up  too  tenderly  for  that ; 
and  when  I  looked  upon  the  women  who  were  associated  with 
some  of  our  troop,  I  could  not  have  borne  the  thoughts  of  her 
being  their  companion.  All  return  to  my  former  life  was  like 
wise  hopeless,  for  a  price  was  set  upon  my  head.  Still  I  deter 
mined  to  see  her ;  the  very  hazard  and  fruitlessness  of  the  thing 
made  me  furious  to  accomplish  it. 

About  three  weeks  since,  I  persuaded  our  captain  to  draw 
down  to  the  vicinity  of  Frosinone,  suggesting  the  chance  of  en 
trapping  some  of  its  principal  inhabitants,  and  compelling  them 
to  a  ransom.  We  were  lying  in  ambush  towards  evening,  not 
far  from  the  vineyard  of  Rosetta' s  father.  I  stole  quietly  from 
my  companions,  and  drew  near  to  reconnoitre  the  place  of  her 
frequent  walks.  How  my  heart  beat  when  among  the  vines  I 
beheld  the  gleaming  of  a  white  dress  !  I  knew  it  must  be  Ro 
setta's  ;  it  being  rare  for  any  female  of  the  place  to  dress  in 
white.  I  advanced  secretly  and  without  noise,  until,  putting  aside 
the  vines,  I  stood  suddenly  before  her.  She  uttered  a  piercing 
shriek,  but  I  seized  her  in  my  arms,  put  my  hand  upon  her 
mouth,  and  conjured  her  to  be  silent.  I  poured  out  all  the  frenzy 
of  my  passion ;  offered  to  renounce  my  mode  of  life ;  to  put  my 
fate  in  her  hands ;  to  fly  with  her  where  we  might  live  in  safety 


THE   YOUNG   ROBBER.  343 


together.  All  that  I  could  say  or  do  would  not  pacify  her.  In 
stead  of  love,  horror  and  affright  seemed  to  have  taken  possession 
of  her  breast.  She  struggled  partly  from  my  grasp,  and  filled 
the  air  with  her  cries. 

In  an  instant  the  captain  and  the  rest  of  my  companions  were 
around  us.  I  would  have  given  any  thing  at  that  moment  had 
she  been  safe  out  of  our  hands,  and  in  her  father's  house.  It 
was  too  late.  The  captain  pronounced  her  a  prize,  and  ordered 
that  she  should  be  borne  to  the  mountains.  I  represented  to  him 
that  she  was  my  prize ;  that  I  had  a  previous  claim  to  her ;  and 
I  mentioned  my  former  attachment.  He  sneered  bitterly  in  re 
ply  ;  observed  that  brigands  had  no  business  with  village  intrigues, 
and  that,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  troop,  all  spoils  of  the  kind 
were  determined  by  lot.  Love  and  jealousy  were  raging  in  my 
heart,  but  I  had  to  choose  between  obedience  and  death.  I  sur 
rendered  her  to  the  captain,  and  we  made  for  the  mountains. 

She  was  overcome  by  affright,  and  her  steps  were  so  feeble 
and  faltering  that  it  was  necessary  to  support  her.  I  could  not 
endure  the  idea  that  my  comrades  should  touch  her,  and  assuming 
a  forced  tranquillity,  begged  she  might  be  confided  to  me,  as  one 
to  whom  she  was  more  accustomed.  The  captain  regarded  me, 
for  a  moment,  with  a  searching  look,  but  I  bore  it  without  flinch 
ing,  and  he  consented.  I  took  her  in  my  arms  ;  she  was  almost 
senseless.  Her  head  rested  on  my  shoulder  ;  I  felt  her  breath  on 
my  face,  and  it  seemed  to  fan  the  flame  which  devoured  me.  Oh 
God  !  to  have  this  glowing  treasure  in  my  arms,  and  yet  to  think 
it  was  not  mine  ! 

We  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain ;  I  ascended  it  with 
difficulty,  particularly  where  the  woods  were  thick,  but  I  would 
not  relinquish  my  delicious  burden.  I  reflected  with  rage,  how- 


344  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


ever,  that  I  must  soon  do  so.  The  thoughts  that  so  delicate  a 
creature  must  be  abandoned  to  my  rude  companions  maddened 
me.  I  felt  tempted,  the  stiletto  in  my  hand,  to  cut  my  way 
through  them  all,  and  bear  her  off  in  triumph.  I  scarcely  con 
ceived  the  idea  before  I  saw  its  rashness ;  but  my  brain  was 
fevered  with  the  thought  that  any  but  myself  should  enjoy  her 
charms.  I  endeavored  to  outstrip  my  companions  by  the  quick 
ness  of  my  movements,  and  to  get  a  little  distance  ahead,  in  case 
any  favorable  opportunity  of  escape  should  present.  Vain  effort ! 
The  voice  of  the  captain  suddenly  ordered  a  halt.  I  trembled, 
but  had  to  obey.  The  poor  girl  partly  opened  a  languid  eye,  but 
was  without  strength  or  motion.  I  laid  her  upon  the  grass.  The 
captain  darted  on  me  a  terrible  look  of  suspicion,  and  ordered  me 
to  scour  the  woods  with  my  companions  in  search  of  some  shep 
herd,  who  might  be  sent  to  her  father's  to  demand  a  ransom. 

I  saw  at  once  the  peril.  To  resist  with  violence  was  certain 
death — but  to  leave  her  alone,  in  the  power  of  the  captain  ! — I 
spoke  out  then  with  a  fervor,  inspired  by  my  passion  and  my 
despair.  I  reminded  the  captain  that  I  was  the  first  to  seize  her ; 
that  she  was  my  prize ;  and  that  my  previous  attachment  to  her 
ought  to  make  her  sacred  among  my  companions.  I  insisted, 
therefore,  that  he  should  pledge  me  his  word  to  respect  her,  other 
wise  I  should  refuse  obedience  to  his  orders.  His  only  reply  was 
to  cock  his  carbine,  and  at  the  signal  my  comrades  did  the  same. 
They  laughed  with  cruelty  at  my  impotent  rage.  What  could  I 
do  ?  I  felt  the  madness  of  resistance.  I  was  menaced  on  all 
hands,  and  my  companions  obliged  me  to  follow  them.  She  re 
mained  alone  with  the  chief — yes,  alone — and  almost  lifeless  ! — 

Here  the  robber  paused  in  his  recital,  overpowered  by  his 
emotions.  Great  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his  forehead ;  he 


THE   YOUNG   ROBBER.  345 


panted  rather  than  breathed ;  his  brawny  bosom  rose  and  fell 
like  the  waves  of  the  troubled  sea.  When  he  had  become  a  little 
calm,  he  continued  his  recital. 

I  was  not  long  in  finding  a  shepherd,  said  he.  I  ran  with  the 
rapidity  of  a  deer,  eager,  if  possible,  to  get  back  before  what  I 
dreaded  might  take  place.  I  had  left  my  companions  far  behind, 
and  I  rejoined  them  before  they  had  reached  one  half  the  distance 
I  had  made.  I  hurried  them  back  to  the  place  where  we  had 
left  the  captain.  As  we  approached,  I  beheld  him  seated  by  the 
side  of  Rosetta.  His  triumphant  look,  and  the  desolate  condition 
of  the  unfortunate  girl,  left  me  no  doubt  of  her  fate.  I  know  not 
how  I  restrained  my  fury. 

It  was  with  extreme  difficulty,  and  by  guiding  her  hand,  that 
she  was  made  to  trace  a  few  characters,  requesting  her  father  to 
send  three  hundred  dollars  as  her  ransom.  The  letter  was  dis 
patched  by  the  shepherd.  When  he  was  gone,  the  chief  turned 
sternly  to  me.  "  You  have  set  an  example/'  said  he,  "  of  mutiny 
and  self-will,  which,  if  indulged,  would  be  ruinous  to  the  troop. 
Had  I  treated  you  as  our  laws  require,  this  bullet  would  have 
been  driven  through  your  brain.  But  you  are  an  old  friend.  I 
have  borne  patiently  with  your  fury  and  your  folly.  I  have  even 
protected  you  from  a  foolish  passion  that  would  have  unmanned 
you.  As  to  this  girl,  the  laws  of  our  association  must  have  their 
course."  So  saying,  he  gave  his  commands :  lots  were  drawn, 
and  the  helpless  girl  was  abandoned  to  the  troop. 

Here  the  robber  paused  again,  panting  with  fury,  and  it  was 
some  moments  before  he  could  resume  his  story. 

Hell,  said  he,  was  raging  in  my  heart.  I  beheld  the  impossi 
bility  of  avenging  myself ;  and  I  felt  that,  according  to  the  arti 
cles  in  which  we  stood  bound  to  one  another,  the  captain  was  in 

15* 


346  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


the  right.  I  rushed  with  frenzy  from  the  place ;  I  threw  myself 
upon  the  earth ;  tore  up  the  grass  with  my  hands ;  and  beat  my 
head  and  gnashed  my  teeth  in  agony  and  rage.  When  at  length 
I  returned,  I  beheld  the  wretched  victim,  pale,  dishevelled,  her 
dress  torn  and  disordered.  An  emotion  of  pity,  for  a  moment, 
subdued  my  fiercer  feelings.  I  bore  her  to  the  foot  of  a  tree,  and 
leaned  her  gently  against  it.  I  took  my  gourd,  which  was  filled 
with  wine,  and  applying  it  to  her  lips,  endeavored  to  make  her 
swallow  a  little.  To  what  a  condition  was  she  reduced !  she, 
whom  I  had  once  seen  the  pride  of  Frosinone ;  who  but  a  short 
time  before  I  had  beheld  sporting  in  her  father's  vineyard,  so 
fresh,  and  beautiful  and  happy  !  Her  teeth  were  clinched ;  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground;  her  form  without  motion,  and  in  a 
state  of  absolute  insensibility.  I  hung  over  her  in  an  agony  of 
recollection  at  all  that  she  had  been,  and  of  anguish  at  what  I 
now  beheld  her.  I  darted  round  a  look  of  horror  at  my  compan 
ions,  who  seemed  like  so  many  fiends  exulting  in  the  downfall 
of  an  angel ;  and  I  felt  a  horror  at  myself  for  being  their 
accomplice. 

The  captain,  always  suspicious,  saw,  with  his  usual  penetra 
tion,  what  was  passing  within  me,  and  ordered  me  to  go  upon  the 
ridge  of  the  woods,  to  keep  a  look-out  over  the  neighborhood,  and 
await  the  return  of  the  shepherd.  I  obeyed,  of  course,  stifling 
the  fury  that  raged  within  me,  though  I  felt,  for  the  moment,  that 
he  was  my  most  deadly  foe. 

On  my  way,  however,  a  ray  of  reflection  came  across  my 
mind.  I  perceived  that  the  captain  was  but  following,  with 
strictness,  the  terrible  laws  to  which  we  had  sworn  fidelity.  That 
the  passion  by  which  I  had  been  blinded  might,  with  justice,  have 
been  fatal  to  me,  but  for  his  forbearance ;  that  he  had  penetrated 


THE   YOUNG   ROBBER.  347 


my  soul,  and  had  taken  precautions,  by  sending  me  out  of  the 
way,  to  prevent  my  committing  any  excess  in  my  anger.  From 
that  instant  I  felt  that  I  was  capable  of  pardoning  him. 

Occupied  with  these  thoughts,  I  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain.  The  country  was  solitary  and  secure,  and  in  a  short 
time  I  beheld  the  shepherd  at  a  distance  crossing  the  plain.  I 
hastened  to  meet  him.  He  had  obtained  nothing.  He  had 
found  the  father  plunged  in. the  deepest  distress.  He  had  read 
the  letter  with  violent  emotion,  and  then,  calming  himself  with  a 
sudden  exertion,  he  had  replied  coldly :  "  My  daughter  has  been 
dishonored  by  those  wretches ;  let  her  be  returned  without  ran 
som, — or  let  her  die  !" 

I  shuddered  at  this  reply.  I  knew  that,  according  to  the 
laws  of  our  troop,  her  death  was  inevitable.  Our  oaths  required 
it.  I  felt,  nevertheless,  that  not  having  been  able  to  have  her  to 
myself,  I  could  be  her  executioner  ! 

The  robber  again  paused  with  agitation.  I  sat  musing  upon 
his  last  frightful  words,  which  proved  to  what  excess  the  passions 
may  be  carried,  when  escaped  from  all  moral  restraint.  There 
was  a  horrible  verity  in  this  story  that  reminded  me  of  some  of 
the  tragic  fictions  of  Dante. 

We  now  come  to  a  fatal  moment,  resumed  the  bandit.  After 
the  report  of  the  shepherd,  I  returned  with  him,  and  the  chieftain 
received  from  his  lips  the  refusal  of  the  father.  At  a  signal 
which  we  all  understood,  we  followed  him  to  some  distance  from 
the  victim.  He  there  pronounced  her  sentence  of  death.  Every 
one  stood  ready  to  execute  his  order,  but  I  interfered.  I  observed 
that  there  was  something  due  to  pity  as  well  as  to  justice.  That 
I  was  as  ready  as  any  one  to  approve  the  implacable  law,  which 
was  to  serve  as  a  warning  to  all  those  who  hesitated  to  pay 


348  TALES  OF   A  TRAVELLER. 


the  ransoms  demanded  for  our  prisoners ;  but  that  though  the 
sacrifice  was  proper,  it  ought  to  be  made  without  cruelty.  The 
night  is  approaching,  continued  I ;  she  will  soon  be  wrapped  in 
sleep ;  let  her  then  be  dispatched.  All  I  now  claim  on  the  score 
of  former  kindness  is,  let  me  strike  the  blow.  I  will  do  it  as 
surely,  though  more  tenderly  than  aoother.  Several  raised  their 
voices  against  my  proposition,  but  the  captain  imposed  silence  on 
them.  He  told  me  I  might  conduct  her  into  a  thicket  at  some 
distance,  an.d  he  relied  upon  my  promise. 

I  hastened  to  seize  upon  my  prey.  There  was  a  forlorn  kind 
of  triumph  at  having  at  length  become  her  exclusive  possessor. 
I  bore  her  off  into  the  thickness  of  the  forest.  She  remained  in 
the  same  state  of  insensibility  or  stupor.  I  was  thankful  that  she 
did  not  recollect  me,  for  had  she  once  murmured  my  name,  I 
should  have  been  overcome.  She  slept  at  length  in  the  arms  of 
him  who  was  to  poniard  her.  Many  were  the  conflicts  I  under 
went  before  I  could  bring  myself  to  strike  the  blow.  But  my 
heart  had  become  sore  by  the  recent  conflicts  it  had  undergone, 
and  I  dreaded  lest,  by  procrastination,  some  other  should  become 
her  executioner.  When  her  repose  had  continued  for  some  time, 
I  separated  myself  gently  from  her,  that  I  might  not  disturb  her 
sleep,  and  seizing  suddenly  my  poniard  plunged  it  into  her  bosom. 
A  painful  and  concentrated  murmur,  but  without  any  convulsive 
movement,  accompanied  her  last  sigh. — So  perished  this  unfortu 
nate! 


He  ceased  to  speak.  I  sat,  horror-struck,  covering  my  face 
with  my  hands,  seeking,  as  it  were,  to  hide  from  myself  the 
frightful  images  he  had  presented  to  my  mind.  I  was  roused 


THE  PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  349 


from  this  silence  by  the  voice  of  the  captain :  "  You  sleep,"  said 
he,  "  and  it  is  time  to  be  off.  Come,  we  must  abandon  this  height, 
as  night  is  setting  in,  and  the  messenger  is  not  returned.  I  will 
post  some  one  on  the  mountain  edge  to  conduct  him  to  the  place 
where  we  shall  pass  the  night." 

This  was  no  agreeable  news  to  me.  I  was  sick  at  heart  with 
the  dismal  story  I  had  heard.  I  was  harassed  and  fatigued,  and 
the  sight  of  the  banditti  began  to  grow  insupportable  to  me. 

The  captain  assembled  his  comrades.  We  rapidly  descended 
the  forest,  which  we  had  mounted  with  so  much  difficulty 
in  the  morning,  and  soon  arrived  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  fre 
quented  road.  The  robbers  proceeded  with  great  caution,  carry 
ing  their  guns  cocked,  and  looking  on  every  side  with  wary  and 
suspicious  eyes.  They  were  apprehensive  of  encountering  the 
civic  patrole.  We  left  Rocca  Priori  behind  us.  There  was  a 
fountain  near  by,  and  as  I  was  excessively  thirsty,  I  begged  per 
mission  to  stop  and  drink.  The  captain  himself  went  and  brought 
me  water  in  his  hat.  We  pursued  our  route,  when,  at  the  extre 
mity  of  an  alley  which  crossed  the  road,  I  perceived  a  female  on 
horseback,  dressed  in  white.  She  was  alone.  I  recollected  the 
fate  of  the  poor  girl  in  the  story,  and  trembled  for  her  safety. 

One  of  the  brigands  saw  her  at  the  same  instant,  and  plung 
ing  into  the  bushes,  he  ran  precipitately  in  the  direction  towards 
her.  Stopping  on  the  border  of  the  alley,  he  put  one  knee  to 
the  ground,  presented  his  carbine  ready  to  menace  her,  or  to 
shoot  her  horse  if  she  attempted  to  fly,  and  in  this  way  awaited 
her  approach.  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  on  her  with  intense  anxiety. 
I  felt  tempted  to  shout  and  warn  her  of  her  danger,  thougn  my 
own  destruction  would  have  been  the  consequence.  It  was  awful 
to  see  this  tiger  crouching  ready  for  a  bound,  and  the  poor  inno- 


350  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


cent  victim  wandering  unconsciously  near  him.  Nothing  but  a 
mere  chance  could  save  her.  To  my  joy  the  chance  turned  in 
her  favor.  She  seemed  almost  accidentally  to  take  an  opposite 
pa^h,  which  led  outside  of  the  wood,  where  the  robber  dared  not 
venture.  To  this  casual  deviation  she  owed  her  safety. 

I  could  not  imagine  why  the  captain  of  the  band  had  ventured 
to  such  a  distance  from  the  height  on  which  he  had  placed  the  sen 
tinel  to  watch  the  return  of  the  messenger.  He  seemed  himself 
anxious  at  the  risk  to  which  he  exposed  himself.  His  movements 
were  rapid  and  uneasy ;  I  could  scarce  keep  pace  with  him.  At 
length,  after  three  hours  of  what  might  be  termed  a  forced  march, 
we  mounted  the  extremity  of  the  same  woods,  the  summit  of 
which  we  had  occupied  during  the  day ;  and  I  learnt  with  satis 
faction  that  we  had  reached  our  quarters  for  the  night.  "  You 
must  be  fatigued,"  said  the  chieftain ;  "  but  it  was  necessary  to 
survey  the  environs,  so  as  not  to  be  surprised  during  the  night. 
Had  we  met  with  the  famous  civic  guard  of  Rocca  Priori,  you 
would  have  seen  fine  sport."  Such  was  the  indefatigable  precau 
tion  and  forethought  of  this  robber  chief,  who  really  gave  conti 
nual  evidence  of  military  talent. 

The  night  was  magnificent.  The  moon,  rising  above  the  hor 
izon  in  a  cloudless  sky,  faintly  lit  up  the  grand  features  of  the 
mountain  ;  while  lights  twinkling  here  and  there,  like  terrestrial 
stars  in  the  wide  dusky  expanse  of  the  landscape,  betrayed  the 
lonely  cabins  of  the  shepherds.  Exhausted  by  fatigue,  and  by 
the  many  agitations  I  had  experienced,  I  prepared  to  sleep, 
soothed  by  the  hope  of  approaching  deliverance.  The  captain 
ordered  his  companions  to  collect  some  dry  moss  ;  he  arranged 
with  his  own  hands  a  kind  of  mattress  and  pillow  of  it,  and 
gave  me  his  ample  mantle  as  a  covering.  I  could  not  but  feel 


THE   YOUNG  ROBBER.  351 


both  surprised  and  gratified  by  such  unexpected  attentions  on  the 
part  of  this  benevolent  cut-throat ;  for  there  is  nothing  more 
striking  than  to  find  the  ordinary  charities,  which  are  matters  of 
course  in  common  life,  flourishing  by  the  side  of  such  stern  and 
sterile  crime.  It  is  like  finding  the  tender  flowers  and  fresh 
herbage  of  the  valley  growing  among  the  rocks  and  cinders  of  the 
volcano. 

Before  I  fell  asleep  I  had  some  further  discourse  with  the 
captain,  who  seemed  to  feel  great  confidence  in  me.  He  referred 
to  our  previous  conversation  of  the  morning ;  told  me  he  was 
weary  of  his  hazardous  profession ;  that  he  had  acquired  suffi 
cient  property,  and  was  anxious  to  return  to  the  world,  and  lead 
a  peaceful  life  in  the  bosom  of  his  family.  He  wished  to  know 
whether  it  was  not  in  my  power  to  procure  for  him  a  passport  to 
the  United  States  of  America.  I  applauded  his  good  intentions, 
and  promised  to  do  every  thing  in  my  power  to  promote  its  suc 
cess.  We  then  parted  for  the  night.  I  stretched  myself  upon 
my  couch  of  moss,  which,  after  my  fatigues,  felt  like  a  bed  of 
down ;  and,  sheltered  by  the  robber-mantle  from  all  humidity,  I 
slept  soundly,  without  waking,  until  the  signal  to  arise. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock,  and  the  day  was  just  dawning.  As 
the  place  where  we  had  passed  the  night  was  too  much  exposed, 
we  moved  up  into  the  thickness  of  the  woods.  A  fire  was  kindled. 
While  there  was  any  flame,  the  mantles  were  again  extended 
round  it :  but  when  nothing  remained  but  glowing  cinders,  they 
were  lowered,  and  the  robbers  seated  themselves  in  a  circle. 

The  scene  before  me  reminded  me  of  some  of  those  described 
by  Homer.  There  wanted  only  the  victim  on  the  coals,  and  the 
sacred  knife  to  cut  off  the  succulent  parts,  and  distribute  them 
around.  My  companions  might  have  rivalled  the  grim  warriors 


352  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


of  Greece.  In  place  of  the  noble  repasts,  however,  of  Achilles 
and  Agamemnon,  I  beheld  displayed  on  the  grass  the  remains  of 
the  ham  which  had  sustained  so  vigorous  an  attack  on  the  pre 
ceding  evening,  accompanied  by  the  relics  of  the  bread,  cheese, 
and  wine.  We  had  scarcely  commenced  our  frugal  breakfast, 
when  I  heard  again  an  imitation  of  the  bleating  of  sheep,  similar 
to  what  I  had  heard  the  day  before.  The  captain  answered  it  in 
the  same  tone.  Two  men  were  soon  after  seen  descending  from 
the  woody  height,  where  we  had  passed  the  preceding  evening. 
On  nearer  approach,  they  proved  to  be  the  sentinel  and  the 
messenger.  The  captain  rose,  and  went  to  meet  them.  He  made 
a  signal  for  his  comrades  to  join  him.  They  had  a  short  confer 
ence,  and  then  returning  to  me  with  great  eagerness,  "Your 
ransom  is  paid,"  said  he  ;  "  you  are  free  !" 

Though  I  had  anticipated  deliverance,  I  cannot  tell  you  what 
a  rush  of  delight  these  tidings  gave  me.  I  cared  not  to  finish  my 
repast,  but  prepared  to  depart.  The  captain  took  me  by  the 
hand,  requested  permission  to  write  to  me,  and  begged  me  not  to 
forget  the  passport.  I  replied,  that  I  hoped  to  be  of  effectual 
service  to  him,  and  that  I  relied  on  his  honor  to  return  the 
Prince's  note  for  five  hundred  dollars,  now  that  the  cash  was  paid. 
He  regarded  me  for  a  moment  with  surprise,  then  seeming  to 
recollect  himself,  "  JE  giusto"  said  he,  "  eccolo — adio!"*  He 
delivered  me  the  note,  pressed  my  hand  once  more,  and  we  sepa 
rated.  The  laborers  were  permitted  to  follow  me,  and  we  resumed 
with  joy  our  road  toward  Tusculum. 

*  It  is  just — there  it  is — adieu ! 


THE   PAINTER'S   ADVENTURE.  353 


The  Frenchman  ceased  to  speak.  The  party  continued,  for 
a  few  moments,  to  pace  the  shore  in  silence.  The  story  had 
made  a  deep  impression,  particularly  on  the  Venetian  lady.  At 
that  part  which  related  to  the  young  girl  of  Frosinone,  she  was 
violently  affected.  Sobs  broke  from  her ;  she  clung  closer  to  her 
husband,  and  as  she  looked  up  to  him  as  for  protection,  the  moon 
beams  shining  on  her  beautifully  fair  countenance,  showed  it  paler 
than  usual,  while  tears  glittered  in  her  fine  dark  eyes. 

u  Corragio,  mia  vita  /"  said  he,  as  he  gently  and  fondly  tapped 
the  white  hand  that  lay  upon  his  arm. 

The  party  now  returned  to  the  inn,  and  separated  for  the 
night.  The  fair  Venetian,  though  of  the  sweetest  temperament, 
was  half  out  of  humor  with  the  Englishman,  for  a  certain  slow 
ness  of  faith  which  he  had  evinced  throughout  the  whole  even 
ing.  She  could  not  understand  this  dislike  to  "  humbug,"  as  he 
termed  it,  which  held  a  kind  of  sway  over  him,  and  seemed  to 
control  his  opinions  and  his  very  actions. 

"  I'll  warrant,"  said  she  to  her  husband,  as  they  retired  for 
the  night, — "  I'll  warrant,  with  all  his  affected  indifference,  this 
Englishman's  heart  would  quake  at  the  very  sight  of  a  bandit." 

Her  husband  gently,  and  good-humoredly,  checked  her. 

"  I  have  no  patience  with  these  Englishmen,"  said  she,  as  she 
got  into  bed — "they  are  so  cold  and  insensible  !" 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  ENGLISHMAN. 

IN  the  morning  all  was  bustle  in  the  inn  at  Terracina.  The  pro- 
caccio  had  departed  at  daybreak  on  its  route  towards  Rome,  but 
the  Englishman  was  yet  to  start,  and  the  departure  of  an  English 
equipage  is  always  enough  to  keep  an  inn  in  a  bustle.  On  this 
occasion  there  was  more  than  usual  stir,  for  the  Englishman,  hav 
ing  much  property  about  him,  and  having  been  convinced  of  the 
real  danger  of  the  road,  had  applied  to  the  police,  and  obtained, 
by  dint  of  liberal  pay,  an  escort  of  eight  dragoons  and  twelve 
foot  soldiers,  as  far  as  Fondi.  Perhaps,  too,  there  might  have 
been  a  little  ostentation  at  bottom,  though,  to  say  the  truth,  he 
had  nothing  of  it  in  his  manner.  He  moved  about,  taciturn  and 
reserved  as  usual,  among  the  gaping  crowd  ;  gave  laconic  orders 
to  John,  as  he  packed  away  the  thousand  and  one  indispensable 
conveniences  of  the  night ;  double  loaded  his  pistols  with  great 
sang  froid,  and  deposited  them  in  the  pockets  of  the  carriage ; 
taking  no  notice  of  a  pair  of  keen  eyes  gazing  on  him  from  among 
the  herd  of  loitering  idlers. 

The  fair  Venetian  now  came  up  with  a  request,  made  in  her 
dulcet  tones,  that  he  would  permit  their  carriage  to  proceed  un 
der  protection  of  his  escort.  The  Englishman,  who  was  busy 
loading  another  pair  of  pistols  for  his  servant,  and  held  the  ram 
rod  between  his  teeth,  nodded  assent,  as  a  matter  of  course,  but 
without  lifting  up  his  eyes.  The  fair  Venetian  was  a  little 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  ADVENTURE.  355 


piqued  at  what  she  supposed  indifference : — "  O  Dio  !"  ejacu 
lated  she  softly  as  she  retired ;  "  Quanto  sono  insensibili  questi 
Inglesi." 

At  length,  off  they  set  in  gallant  style.  The  eight  dragoons 
prancing  in  front,  the  twelve  foot  soldiers  marching  in  rear,  and 
the  carriage  moving  slowly  in  the  centre,  to  enable  the  infantry 
to  keep  pace  with  them.  They  had  proceeded  but  a  few  hundred 
yards,  when  it  was  discovered  that  some  indispensable  article  had 
been  left  behind.  In  fact,  the  Englishman^  purse  was  missing, 
and  John  was  dispatched  to  the  inn  to  search  for  it.  This  occa 
sioned  a  little  delay,  and  the  carriage  of  the  Venetians  drove 
slowly  on.  John  came  back  out  of  breath  and  out  of  humor. 
The  purse  was  not  to  be  found.  His  master  was  irritated ;  he 
recollected  the  very  place  where  it  lay ;  he  had  not  a  doubt  that 
the  Italian  servant  had  pocketed  it.  John  was  again  sent  back. 
He  returned  once  more  without  the  purse,  but  with  the  landlord 
and  the  whole  household  at  his  heels.  A  thousand  ejaculations 
and  protestations,  accompanied  by  all  sorts  of  grimaces  and  con 
tortions — "  No  purse  had  been  seen — his  eccellenza  must  be  mis 
taken." 

"  No — his  eccellenza  was  not  mistaken — the  purse  lay  on  the 
marble  table,  under  the  mirror,  a  green  pnrse,  half  full  of  gold 
and  silver."  Again  a  thousand  grimaces  and  contortions,  and 
vows  by  San  Gennaro,  that  no  purse  of  the  kind  had  been  seen. 

The  Englishman  became  furious.  "  The  waiter  had  pocketed 
it — the  landlord  was  a  knave — the  inn  a  den  of  thieves — it  was 
a  vile  country — he  had  been  cheated  and  plundered  from  one  end 
of  it  to  the  other — but  he'd  have  satisfaction — he'd  drive  right 
off  to  the  police." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  ordering  the  postilions  to  turn  back, 


356  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


when,  on  rising,  he  displaced  the  cushion  of  the  carriage,  and  the 
purse  of  money  fell  chinking  to  the  floor. 

All  the  blood  in  his  body  seemed  to  rush*  into  his  face — 
"  Curse  the  purse,"  said  he,  as  he  snatched  it  up.  He  dashed  a 
handful  of  money  on  the  ground  before  the  pale  cringing  waiter 
— "  There — be  off !"  cried  he.  "  John,  order  the  postilions  to 
drive  on." 

Above  half  an  hour  had  been  exhausted  in  this  altercation. 
The  Venetian  carriage  had  loitered  along ;  its  passengers  looking 
out  from  time  to  time,  and  expecting  the  escort  every  moment  to 
follow.  They  had  gradually  turned  an  angle  of  the  road  that 
shut  them  out  of  sight.  The  little  army  was  again  in  motion, 
and  made  a  very  picturesque  appearance  as  it  wound  along  at  the 
bottom  of  the  rocks ;  the  morning  sunshine  beaming  upon  the 
weapons  of  the  soldiery. 

The  Englishman  lolled  back  in  his  carriage,  vexed  with  him 
self  at  what  had  passed,  and  consequently  out  of  humor  with  all 
the  world.  As  this,  however,  is  no  uncommon  case  with  gentle 
men  who  travel  for  their  pleasure,  it  is  hardly  worthy  of  remark. 
They  had  wound  up  from  the  coast  among  the  hills,  and  came  to 
a  part  of  the  road  that  admitted  of  some  prospect  ahead. 

"  I  see  nothing  of  the  lady's  carriage,  sir,"  said  John,  leaning 
down  from  the  coach-box. 

"  Pish !"  said  the  Englishman,  testily — "  don't  plague  me  about 
the  lady's  carriage ;  must  I  be  continually  pestered  with  the  con 
cerns  of  strangers  ?"  John  said  not  another  word,  for  he  under 
stood  his  master's  mood. 

The  road  grew  more  wild  and  lonely ;  they  were  slowly  pro 
ceeding  on  a  foot-pace  up  a  hill ;  the  dragoons  were  some  dis 
tance  ahead,  and  had  just  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  when 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  ADVENTURE.  357 


they  uttered  an  exclamation,  or  rather  shout,  and  galloped  for 
ward.  The  Englishman  was  roused  from  his  sulky  reverie.  He 
stretched  his  head  from  the  carriage,  which  had  attained  the  brow 
of  the  hill.  Before  him  extended  a  long  hollow  defile,  commanded 
on  one  side  by  rugged  precipitous  heights,  covered  with  bushes 
of  scanty  forest.  At  some  distance  he  beheld  the  carriage  of  the 
Venetians  overturned.  A  numerous  gang  of  desperadoes  were 
rifling  it ;  the  young  man  and  his  servant  were  overpowered,  and 
partly  stripped ;  and  the  lady  was  in  the  hands  of  two  of  the 
ruffians.  The  Englishman  seized  his  pistols,  sprang  from  the 
carriage,  and  called  upon  John  to  follow  him. 

In  the  meantime,  as  the  dragoons  came  forward,  the  robbers, 
who  were  busy  with  the  carriage,  quitted  their  spoil,  formed  them 
selves  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  taking  a  deliberate  aim, 
fired.  One  of  the  dragoons  fell,  another  was  wounded,  and  the 
whole  were  for  a  moment  checked  and  thrown  into  confusion. 
The  robbers  loaded  again  in  an  instant.  The  dragoons  discharged 
their  carbines,  but  without  apparent  effect.  They  received  ano 
ther  volley,  which,  though  none  fell,  threw  them  again  into  con 
fusion.  The  robbers  were  loading  a  second  time  when  they  saw 
the  foot  soldiers  at  hand.  "  Scampa  via  /"  was  the  word :  they 
abandoned  their  prey,  and  retreated  up  the  rocks,  the  soldiers 
after  them.  They  fought  from  cliff  to  cliff,  and  bush  to  bush,  the 
robbers  turning  every  now  and  then  to  fire  upon  their  pursuers ; 
the  soldiers  scrambling  after  them,  and  discharging  their  muskets 
whenever  they  could  get  a  chance.  Sometimes  a  soldier  or  a  rob 
ber  was  shot  down,  and  came  tumbling  among  the  cliffs.  The 
dragoons  kept  firing  from  below,  whenever  a  robber  came  in 
sight. 

The  Englishman  had  hastened  to  the  scene  of  action,  and  the 


358  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


balls  discharged  at  the  dragoons  had  whistled  past  him  as  he 
advanced.  One  object,  however,  engrossed  his  attention.  It 
was  the  beautiful  Venetian  lady  in  the  hands  of  two  of  the  rob 
bers,  who,  during  the  confusion  of  the  fight,  carried  her  shrieking 
up  the  mountain.  He  saw  her  dress  gleaming  among  the  bushes, 
and  he  sprang  up  the  rocks  to  intercept  the  robbers,  as  they  bore 
off  their  prey.  The  ruggedness  of  the  steep,  and  the  entangle 
ments  of  the  bushes,  delayed  and  impeded  him.  He  lost  sight 
of  the  lady,  but  was  still  guided  by  her  cries,  which  grew  fainter 
and  fainter.  They  were  off  to  the  left,  while  the  reports  of  mus 
kets  showed  that  the  battle  was  raging  to  the  right.  At  length 
he  came  upon  what  appeared  to  be  a  rugged  footpath,  faintly 
worn  in  a  gully  of  the  rocks,  and  beheld  the  ruffians  at  some  dis 
tance  hurrying  the  lady  up  the  defile.  One  of  them  hearing  his 
approach,  let  go  his  prey,  advanced  towards  him,  and  levelling 
the  carbine  which  had  been  slung  on  his  back,  fired.  The  ball 
whizzed  through  the  Englishman's  hat,  and  carried  with  it  some 
of  his  hair.  He  returned  the  fire  with  one  of  his  pistols,  and  the 
robber  fell.  The  other  brigand  now  dropped  the  lady,  and  draw 
ing  a  long  pistol  from  his  belt,  fired  on  his  adversary  with  deli 
berate  aim.  The  ball  passed  between  his  left  arm  and  his  side, 
slightly  wounding  the  arm.  The  Englishman  advanced,  and  dis 
charged  his  remaining  pistol,  which  wounded  the  robber,  but  not 
severely. 

The  brigand  drew  a  stiletto  and  rushed  upon  his  adversary, 
who  eluded  the  blow,  receiving  merely  a  slight  wound,  and 
defended  himself  with  his  pistol,  which  had  a  spring  bayonet. 
They  closed  with  one  another,  and  a  desperate  struggle  ensued. 
The  robber  was  a  square-built,  thick-set  man,  powerful,  muscular, 
and  active.  The  Englishman,  though  of  larger  frame  and 


THE   ENGLISHMAN'S   ADVENTURE.  359 


greater  strength,  was  less  active  and  less  accustomed  to  athletic 
exercises  and  feats  of  hardihood,  but  he  showed  himself  practised 
and  skilled  in  the  art  of  defence.  They  were  on  a  craggy  height, 
and  the  Englishman  perceived  that  his  antagonist  was  striving  to 
press  him  to  the  edge.  A  side-glance  showed  him  also  the  robber 
whom  he  had  first  wounded,  scrambling  up  to  the  assistance  of 
his  comrade,  stiletto  in  hand.  He  had  in  fact  attained  the  sum 
mit  of  the  cliff,  he  was  within  a  few  steps,  and  the  Englishman 
felt  that  his  case  was  desperate,  when  he  heard  suddenly  the 
report  of  a  pistol,  and  the  ruffian  fell.  The  shot  came  from 
John,  who  had  arrived  just  in  time  to  save  his  master. 

The  remaining  robber,  exhausted  by  loss  of  blood  and  the 
violence  of  the  contest,  showed  signs  of  faltering.  The  English 
man  pursued  his  advantage,  pressed  on  him,  and  as  his  strength 
relaxed,  dashed  him  headlong  from  the  precipice.  He  looked 
after  him,  and  saw  him  lying  motionless  among  the  rocks  below. 

The  Englishman  now  sought  the  fair  Venetian.  He  found 
her  senseless  on  the  ground.  With  his  servant's  assistance  he 
bore  her  down  to  the  road,  where  her  husband  was  raving  like 
one  distracted.  He  had  sought  her  in  vain,  and  had  given  her 
over  for  lost ;  and  when  he  beheld  her  thus  brought  back  in 
safety,  his  joy  was  equally  wild  and  ungovernable.  He  would 
have  caught  her  insensible  form  to  his  bosom  had  not  the  Eng 
lishman  restrained  him.  The  latter,  now  really  aroused,  dis 
played  a  true  tenderness  and  manly  gallantry,  which  one  would 
not  have  expected  from  his  habitual  phlegm.  His  kindness,  how 
ever,  was  practical,  not  wasted  in  words.  He  dispatched  John 
to  the  carriage  for  restoratives  of  all  kinds,  and,  totally  thought 
less  of  himself,  was  anxious  only  about  his  lovely  charge.  The 
occasional  discharge  of  firearms  along  the  height,  showed  that  a 


360  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


retreating  fight  was  still  kept  up  by  the  robbers.  The  lady  gave 
signs  of  reviving  animation.  The  Englishman,  eager  to  get  her 
from  this  place  of  danger,  conveyed  her  to  his  own  carriage,  and, 
committing  her  to  the  care  of  her  husband,  ordered  the  dragoons 
to  escort  them  to  Fondi.  The  Venetian  would  have  insisted  on 
the  Englishman's  getting  into  the  carriage  ;  but  the  latter  refused. 
He  poured  forth  a  torrent  of  thanks  and  benedictions  ;  but  the 
Englishman  beckoned  to  the  postilions  to  drive  on. 

John  now  dressed  his  master's  wounds,  which  were  found  not 
to  be  serious,  though  he  was  faint  with  loss  of  blood.  The  Ve 
netian  carriage  had  been  righted,  and  the  baggage  replaced  ;  and, 
getting  into  it,  they  set  out  on  their  way  towards  Fondi,  leaving 
the  foot-soldiers  still  engaged  in  ferreting  out  the  banditti. 

Before  arriving  at  Fondi,  the  fair  Venetian  had  completely 
recovered  from  her  swoon.  She  made  the  usual  question — 

"  Where  was  she  ?" 

"  In  the  Englishman's  carriage." 

"  How  had  she  escaped  from  the  robbers  ?" 

"  The  Englishman  had  rescued  her." 

Her  transports  were  unbounded  ;  and  mingled  with  them  were 
enthusiastic  ejaculations  of  gratitude  to  her  deliverer.  A  thou 
sand  times  did  she  reproach  herself  for  having  accused  him  of 
coldness  and  insensibility.  The  moment  she  saw  him  she  rushed 
into  his  arms  with  the  vivacity  of  her  nation,  and  hung  about  his 
neck  in  a  speechless  transport  of  gratitude.  Never  was  man 
more  embarrassed  by  the  embraces  of  a  fine  woman. 

«  Tut ! — tut !"  said  the  Englishman. 

"  You  are  wounded  !"  shrieked  the  fair  Venetian,  as  she  saw 
blood  upon  his  clothes. 

"  Pooh  !  nothing  at  all !" 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S   ADVENTURE.  361 


"  My  deliverer ! — my  angel !"  exclaimed  she,  clasping  him 
again  round  the  neck,  and  sobbing  on  his  bosom. 

"  Pish !"  said  the  Englishman,  with  a  good-humored  tone,  but 
looking  somewhat  foolish,  "  this  is  all  humbug." 

The  fair  Venetian,  however,  has  never  since  accused  the  Eng 
lish  of  insensibility. 

16 


PART  IV. 


THE    MONEY-DIGGERS. 

FOUND  AMONG   THE   PAPERS   OF   THE   LATE   DIEDRICH 
KNICKERBOCKER. 


"Now  I  remember  those  old  women's  words, 
Who  in  my  youth  would  tell  me  winter's  tales: 
And  speak  of  sprites  and  ghosts  that  glide  by  night 
About  the  place  where  treasure  hath  been  hid." 

MARLOW'S  Jew  of  Malta. 


HELL-GATE. 

ABOUT  six  miles  from  the  renowned  city  of  the  Manhattoes,  in 
that  Sound  or  arm  of  the  sea  which  passes  between  the  main-land 
and  Nassau,  or  Long  Island,  there  is  a  narrow  strait,  where  the 
current  is  violently  compressed  between  shouldering  promonto 
ries,  and  horribly  perplexed  by  rocks  and  shoals.  Being  at  the 
best  of  times,  a  very  violent,  impetuous  current,  it  takes  these 
impediments  in  mighty  dudgeon ;  boiling  in  whirlpools ;  brawl 
ing  and  fretting  in  ripples  ;  raging  and  roaring  in  rapids  and 
breakers ;  and,  in  short,  indulging  in  all  kinds  of  wrong-headed 
paroxysms.  At  such  times,  woe  to  any  unlucky  vessel  that  ven 
tures  within  its  clutches. 

This  termagant  humor,  however,  prevails  only  at  certain  times 
of  tide.  At  low  water,  for  instance,  it  is  as  pacific  a  stream  as 
you  would  wish  to  see ;  but  as  the  tide  rises,  it  begins  to  fret ;  at 
half-tide  it  roars  with  might  and  main,  like  a  bull  bellowing  for 
more  drink ;  but  when  the  tide  is  full,  it  relapses  into  quiet,  and, 
for  a  time,  sleeps  as  soundly  as  an  alderman  after  dinner.  In 
fact,  it  may  be  compared  to  a  quarrelsome  toper,  who  is  a  peace 
able  fellow  enough  when  he  has  no  liquor  at  all,  or  when  he  has 
a  skinfull,  but  who,  when  half-seas-over,  plays  the  very  devil. 

This  mighty  blustering,  bullying,  hard-drinking  little  strait, 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


was  a  place  of  great  danger  and  perplexity  to  the  Dutch  naviga 
tors  of  ancient  days ;  hectoring  their  tub-built  barks  in  a  most 
unruly  style  ;  whirling  them  about  in  a  manner  to  make  any  but 
a  Dutchman  giddy,  and  not  unfrequently  stranding  them  upon 
rocks  and  reefs,  as  it  did  the  famous  squadron  of  Oloffe  the 
Dreamer,  when  seeking  a  place  to  found  the  city  of  the  Manhat- 
toes.  Whereupon,  out  of  sheer  spleen,  they  denominated  it 
Helle-gat,  and  solemnly  gave  it  over  to  the  devil.  This  appella 
tion  has  since  been  aptly  rendered  into  English  by  the  name  of 
Hell-gate,  and  into  nonsense  by  the  name  of  .MtrZ-gate,  according 
to  certain  foreign  intruders,  who  neither  understood  Dutch  nor 
English — may  St.  Nicholas  confound  them ! 

This  strait  of  Hell-gate  was  a  place  of  great  awe  and  peril 
ous  enterprise  to  me  in  my  boyhood ;  having  been  much  of  a 
navigator  on  those  small  seas,  and  having  more  than  once  run  the 
risk  of  shipwreck  and  drowning  in  the  course  of  certain  holiday 
voyages,  to  which,  in  common  with  other  Dutch  urchins,  I  was 
rather  prone.  Indeed,  partly  from  the  name,  and  partly  from 
various  strange  circumstances  connected  with  it,  this  place  had 
far  more  terrors  in  the  eyes  of  my  truant  companions  and  myself 
than  had  Scylla  and  Charybdis  for  the  navigators  of  yore. 

In  the  midst  of  this  strait,  and  hard  by  a  group  of  rocks  called 
the  Hen  and  Chickens,  there  lay  the  wreck  of  a  vessel  which 
had  been  entangled  in  the  whirlpools  and  stranded  during  a 
storm.  There  was  a  wild  story  told  to  us  of  this  being  the 
wreck  of  a  pirate,  and  some  tale  of  bloody  murder  which  I  can 
not  now  recollect,  but  which  made  us  regard  it  with  great  awe, 
and  keep  far  from  it  in  our  cruisings.  Indeed,  the  desolate  look 
of  the  forlorn  hulk,  and  the  fearful  place  where  it  lay  rotting, 


HELL-GATE.  367 


were  enough  to  awaken  strange  notions.  A  row  of  timber-heads, 
blackened  by  time,  just  peered  above  the  surface  at  high  water ; 
but  at  low  tide  a  considerable  part  of  the  hull  was  bare,  and  its 
great  ribs  or  timbers,  partly  stripped  of  their  planks  and  dripping 
with  sea-weeds,  looked  like  the  huge  skeleton  of  some  sea-mon 
ster.  There  was  also  the  stump  of  a  mast,  with  a  few  ropes  and 
blocks  swinging  about  and  whistling  in  the  wind,  while  the  sea 
gull  wheeled  and  screamed  around  the  melancholy  carcass.  I 
have  a  faint  recollection  of  some  hobgoblin  tale  of  sailors'  ghosts 
being  seen  about  this  wreck  at  night,  with  bare  skulls,  and  blue 
lights  in  their  sockets  instead  of  eyes,  but  I  have  forgotten  all 
the  particulars. 

In  fact,  the  whole  of  this  neighborhood  was  like  the  straits  of 
Pelorus  of  yore,  a  region  of  fable  and  romance  to  me.  From 
the  strait  to  the  Manhattoes  the  borders  of  the  Sound  are  greatly 
diversified,  being  broken  and  indented  by  rocky  nooks  overhung 
with  trees,  which  give  them  a  wild  and  romantic  look.  In  the 
time  of  my  boyhood,  they  abounded  with  traditions  about  pirates, 
ghosts,  smugglers,  and  buried  money ;  which  had  a  wonderful 
effect  upon  the  young  minds  of  my  companions  and  myself. 

As  I  grew  to  more  mature  years,  I  made  diligent  research 
after  the  truth  of  these  strange  traditions ;  for  I  have  always 
been  a  curious  investigator  of  the  valuable  but  obscure  branches 
of  the  history  of  my  native  province.  I  found  infinite  difficulty, 
however,  in  arriving  at  any  precise  information.  In  seeking  to 
dig  up  one  fact,  it  is  incredible  the  number  of  fables  that  I  un 
earthed.  I  will  say  nothing  of  the  devil's  stepping-stones,  by 
which  the  arch  fiend  made  his  retreat  from  Connecticut  to  Long 
Island,  across  the  Sound ;  seeing  the  subject  is  likely  to  be  learn- 


368  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

edly  treated  by  a  worthy  friend  and  contemporary  historian, 
whom  I  have  furnished  with  particulars  thereof.*  Neither  will  I 
say  any  thing  of  the  black  man  in  a  three-cornered  hat,  seated  in 
the  stern  of  a  jolly-boat,  who  used  to  be  seen  about  Hell-gate  in 
stormy  weather,  and  who  went  by  the  name  of  the  pirate's  spuke, 
(i.  e.  pirate's  ghost,)  and  whom,  it  is  said,  old  Governor  Stuyve- 
sant  once  shot  with  a  silver  bullet ;  because  I  never  could  meet 
with  any  person  of  stanch  credibility  who  professed  to  have  seen 
this  spectrum,  unless  it  were  .the  widow  of  Manus  Conklen,  the 
blacksmith,  of  Frogsneck  ;  but  then,  poor  woman,  she  was  a  little 
purblind,  and  might  have  been  mistaken ;  though  they  say  she 
saw  farther  than  other  folks  in  the  dark. 

All  this,  however,  was  but  little  satisfactory  in  regard  to  the 
tales  of  pirates  and  their  buried  money,  about  which  I  was  most 
curious ;  and  the  following  is  all  that  I  could  for  a  long  time  col 
lect  that  had  any  thing  like  an  air  of  authenticity. 

*  For  a  very  interesting  and  authentic  account  of  the  devil  and  his  step 
ping-stones,  see  the  valuable  Memoir  read  before  the  New- York  Historical 
Society,  since  the  death  of  Mr.  Knickerbocker,  by  his  friend,  an  eminent  jurist 
of  the  place. 


KIDD  THE  PIRATE. 

IN  old  times,!  just  after  the  territory  of  the  New-Netherlands  had 
been  wrested  from  the  hands  of  their  High  Mightinesses,  the 
Lords  States- General  of  Holland,  by  King  Charles  the  Second, 
and  while  it  was  as  yet  in  an  unquiet  state,  the  province  was  a 
great  resort  of  random  adventurers,  loose  livers,  and  all  that  class 
of  hap-hazard  fellows  who  live  by  their  wits,  and  dislike  the  old- 
fashioned  restraint  of  law  and  gospel.  Among  these,  the  fore 
most  were  the  buccaneers.  These  were  rovers  of  the  deep,  who 
perhaps,  in  time  of  war  had  been  educated  in  those  schools  of 
piracy,  the  privateers ;  but  having  once  tasted  the  sweets  of  plun 
der,  had  ever  retained  a  hankering  after  it.  There  is  but  a 
slight  step  from  the  privateersman  to  the  pirate ;  both  fight  for 
the  love  of  plunder;  only  that  the  latter  is  the  bravest,  as  he 
dares  both  the  enemy  and  the  gallows. 

But  in  whatever  school  they  had  been  taught,!  the  buccaneers 
that  kept  about  the  English  colonies  were  daring  fellows,  and 
made  sad  work  in  times  of  peace  among  the  Spanish  settlements 
and  Spanish  merchantmen.  The  easy  access  to  the  harbor  of  the 
Manhattoes,  the  number  of  hiding-places  about  its  waters,  and 
the  laxity  of  its  scarcely-organized  government,  made  it  a  great 
rendezvous  of  the  pirates ;  where  they  might  dispose  of  their 
booty,  and  concert  new  depredations.  As  they  brought  home 
with  them  wealthy  lading  of  all  kinds,  the  luxuries  of  the  tropics, 

16* 


370  TALES   OF   A  TRAVELLER. 


and  the  sumptuous  spoils  of  the  Spanish  provinces,  and  disposed 
of  them  -with  the  proverbial  carelessness  of  freebooters,  they 
were  welcome  visitors  to  the  thrifty  traders  of  the  Manhattoes. 
Crews  of  these  desperadoes,  therefore^  the  runagates  of  every 
country  and  every  clime,  might  be  seen  swaggering  in  open  day 
about  the  streets  of  the  little  burgh,  elbowing  its  quiet  mynheers  ; 
trafficking  away  their  rich  outlandish  plunder  at  half  or  quarter 
price  to  the  wary  merchant ;  and  then  squandering  their  prize- 
money  in  taverns,  drinking,  gambling,  singing,  swearing,  shouting, 
and  astounding  the  neighborhood  with  midnight  brawl  and  ruffian 
revelry. 

At  length  these  excesses  rose  to  such  a  height  as  to  become 
a  scandal  to  the  provinces,  and  to  call  loudly  for  the  interposition 
of  government.  Measures  were  accordingly  taken  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  widely-extended  evil,  and  to  ferret  this  vermin  brood  out 
of  the  colonies. 

Among  the  agents  employed  to  execute  this  purpose  was  the 
notorious  Captain  Kidd.  J  He  had  long  been  an  equivocal  charac 
ter  ;  one  of  those  nondescript  animals  of  the  ocean  that  are 
neither  fish,  flesh,  nor  fowl.  He  was  somewhat  of  a  trader, 
something  more  of  a  smuggler,  with  a  considerable  dash  of  the 
picaroon.  He  had  traded  for  many  years  among  the  pirates,  in 
a  little  rakish,  musquito-built  vessel,  that  could  run  into  all 
kinds  of  waters,  fie  knew  all  their  haunts  and  lurking-places ; 
was  always  hooking  about  on  mysterious  voyages ;  and  was  as 
busy  as  a  Mother  Gary's  chicken  in  a  storm. 

This  nondescript  personage  was  pitched  upon  by  government 
as  the  very  man  to  hunt  the  pirates  by  sea,  upon  the  good  old 
maxim  of  "  setting  a  rogue  to  catch  a  rogue ;"  [or  as  otters  are 
sometimes  used  to  catch  their  cousins-german,  the  fish. 


KIDD   THE  PIRATE.  371 


Kidd  accordingly  sailed  for  New-York,  in  1695,  in  a  gallant 
vessel  called  the  Adventure  Galley,  well  armed  and  duly  com 
missioned.  On  arriving  at  his  old  haunts,  however,  he  shipped 
his  crew  on  new  terms ;  enlisted  a  number  of  his  old  comrades, 
lads  of  the  knife  and  the  pistol ;  and  then  set  sail  for  the  East.  In 
stead  of  cruising  against  pirates,  he  turned  pirate  himself;  steered 
to  the  Madeiras,  to  Bonavista,  and  Madagascar,  and  cruised  about 
the  entrance  of  the  Red  Sea. ;  Here,  among  other  maritime  rob 
beries,  he  captured  a  rich  Quedah  merchantman,  manned  by 
Moors,  though  commanded  by  an  Englishman.  Kidd  would  fain 
have  passed  this  off'  for  a  worthy  exploit,  as  being  a  kind  of  cru 
sade  against  the  infidels ;  but  government  had  long  since  lost  all 
relish  for  such  Christian  triumphs. 

After  roaming  the  seas,  trafficking  his  prizes,  and  changing 
from  ship  to  ship,  Kidd  had  the  hardihood  to  return  to  Boston, 
laden  with  booty,  with  a  crew  of  swaggering  companions  at  his 
heels. 

Times,  however,  were  changed.  The  buccaneers  could  no 
longer  show  a  whisker  in  the  colonies  with  impunity.  The  new 
governor,  Lord  Bellamont,  had  signalized  himself  by  his  zeal  in 
extirpating  these  offenders ;  and  was  doubly  exasperated  against 
Kidd,  having  been  instrumental  in  appointing  him  to  the  trust 
which  he  had  betrayed.  No  sooner,  therefore,  did  he  show 
himself  in  Boston,  than  the  alarm  was  given  of  his  reappearance, 
and  measures  were  taken  to  arrest  this  cutpurse  of  the  ocean. 
The  daring  character  which  Kidd  had  acquired,  however,  and  the 
desperate  fellows  who  followed  like  bull-dogs  at  his  heels,  caused 
a  little  delay  in  his  arrest.  He  took  advantage  of  this,  it  is  said, 
to  bury  the  greater  part  of  his  treasures,  and  then  carried  a  high 
head  about  the  streets  of  Boston.  He  even  attempted  to  defend 


372  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


himself  when  arrested,  but  was  secured  and  thrown  into  prison, 
with  his  followers.  Such  was  the  formidable  character  of  this 
pirate,  and  his  crew,  that  it  was  thought  advisable  to  dispatch  a 
frigate  to  bring  them  to  England.  Great  exertions  were  made 
to  screen  him  from  justice,  but  in  vain ;  he  and  his  comrades 
werejtried,  condemned,  and  hanged  at  Execution  Dock  in  Lon 
don;-  ,Kidd  died  hard,  for  the  rope  with  which  he  was  first  tied  up 
broke  with  his  weight,  and  he  tumbled  to  the  ground.  He  was 
tied  up  a  second  time,  and  more  effectually ;  hence  came,  doubt 
less,  the  story  of  Kidd's  having  a  charmed  life,  and  that  he  had 
to  be  twice  hanged. 

Such  is  the  main  outline  of  Kidd's  history  ;  but  it  has  given 
birth  to  an  innumerable  progeny  of  traditions.  The  report  of  his 
having  buried  great  treasures  of  gold  and  jewels  before  his  arrest, 
set  the  brains  of  all  the  good  people  along  the  coast  in  a  ferment. 
There  were  rumors  on  rumors  of  great  sums  of  money  found  here 
and  there,  sometimes  in  one  part  of  the  country,  sometimes  in 
another;  of  coins  with  Moorish  inscriptions,  doubtless  the  spoils 
of  his  eastern  prizes,  but  which  the  common  people  looked  upon 
with  superstitious  awe,  regarding  the  Moorish  letters  as  diabolical 
or  magical  characters. 

Some  reported  the  treasure  to  have  been  buried  in  solitary, 
unsettled  places  about  Plymouth  and  Cape  Cod ;  but  by  degrees 
various  other  parts,  not  only  on  the  eastern  coast,  but  along  the 
shores  of  the  Sound,  and  even  of  Manhattan  and  Long  Island, 
were  gilded  by  these  rumors.  In  fact,  the  rigorous  measures  of 
Lord  Bellamont  spread  sudden  consternation  among  the  bucca 
neers  in  every  part  of  the  provinces :  they  secreted  their  money 
and  jewels  in  lonely  out-of-the-way  places,  about  the  wild  shores 
of  the  rivers  and  sea-coast,  and  dispersed  themselves  over  the 


KIDD  THE  PIRATE.  373 


face  of  the  country.  The  hand  of  justice  prevented  many  of 
them  from  ever  returning  to  regain  their  buried  treasures,  which 
remained,  and  remain  probably  to  this  day,  objects  of  enterprise 
for  the  money-digger. 

This  is  the  cause  of  those  frequent  reports  of  trees  and  rocks 
bearing  mysterious  marks,  supposed  to  indicate  the  spots  where 
treasure  lay  hidden ;  and  many  have  been  the  ransackings  after 
the  pirate's  booty.  In  all  the  stories  which  once  abounded  of 
these  enterprises,  the  devil  played  a  conspicuous  part.  Either 
he  was  conciliated  by  ceremonies  and  invocations,  or  some  solemn 
compact  was  made  with  him.  Still  he  was  ever  prone  to  play 
the  money-diggers  some  slippery  trick.  Some  would  dig  so  far 
as  to  come  to  an  iron  chest,  when  some  baffling  circumstance  was 
sure  to  take  place.  Either  the  earth  would  fall  in  and  fill  up  the 
pit,  or  some  direful  noise  or  apparition  would  frighten  the  party 
from  the  place :  sometimes  the  devil  himself  would  appear,  and 
bear  off  the  prize  when  within  their  very  grasp;  and  if  they 
revisited  the  place  the  next  day,  not  a  trace  would  be  found  of 
their  labors  of  the  preceding  night. 

All  these  rumors,  however,  were  extremely  vague,  and  for  a 
long  time  tantalized  without  gratifying  my  curiosity. .  There  is 
nothing  in  this  world  so  hard  to  get  at  as  truth,  and  there  is 
nothing  in  this  world  but  truth  that  I  care  for.  I  sought  among 
all  my  favorite  sources  of  authentic  information,  the  oldest  inhab 
itants,  and  particularly  the  old  Dutch  wives  of  the  province ;  but 
though  I  flatter  myself  that  I  am  better  versed  than  most  men  in 
the  curious  history  of  my  native  province,  yet  for  a  long  time  my 
inquiries  were  unattended  with  any  substantial  result. 

At  length  it  happened  that,  one  calm  day  in  the  latter  part  of 
summer,  I  was  relaxing  myself  from  the  toils  of  severe  study,  by 


374  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


a  day's  amusement  in  fishing  in  those  waters  which  had  been  the 
favorite  resort  of  my  boyhood.  I  was  in  company  with  several 
worthy  burghers  of  my  native  city,  among  whom  were  more  than 
one  illustrious  member  of  the  corporation,  whose  names,  did  I 
dare  to  mention  them,  would  do  honor  to  my  humble  page.  Our 
sport  was  indifferent.  The  fish  did  not  bite  freely,  and  we  fre 
quently  changed  our  fishing-ground  without  bettering  our  luck. 
We  were  at  length  anchored  close  under  a  ledge  of  rocky  coast, 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  island  of  Manhatta.  It  was  a  still, 
warm  day.  The  stream  whirled  and  dimpled  by  us,  without  a 
wave  or  even  a  ripple ;  and  every  thing  was  s«  calm  and  quiet, 
that  it  was  almost  startling  when  the  kingfisher  would  pitch  him 
self  from  the  branch  of  some  high  tree,  and  after  suspending 
himself  for  a  moment  in  the  air  to  take  his  aim,  would  souse  into 
the  smooth  water  after  his  prey.  While  we  were  lolling  in  our 
boat,  half  drowsy  with  the  warm  stillness  of  the  day,  and  the 
dulness  of  our  sport,  one  of  our  party,  a  worthy  alderman,  was 
overtaken  by  a  slumber,  and,  as  he  dozed,  suffered  the  sinker  of 
his  drop-line  to  lie  upon  the  bottom  of  the  river.  On  waking,  he 
found  he  had  caught  something  of  importance  from  the  weight. 
On  drawing  it  to  the  surface,  we  were  much  surprised  to  find  it  a 
long  pistol  of  very  curious  and  outlandish  fashion,  which,  from  its 
rusted  condition,  and  its  stock  being  wormeaten  and  covered  with 
barnacles,  appeared  to  have  lain  a  long  time  under  water.  The 
unexpected  appearance  of  this  document  of  warfare,  occasioned 
much  speculation  among  my  pacific  companions.  One  supposed 
it  to  have  fallen  there  during  the  revolutionary  war ;  another, 
from  the  peculiarity  of  its  fashion,  attributed  it  to  the  voyagers  in 
the  earliest  days  of  the  settlement ;  perchance  to  the  renowned 
Adrian  Block,  who  explored  the  Sound,  and  discovered  Block 


KIDD  THE  PIRATE.  375 


Island,  since  so  noted  for  its  cheese.  But  a  third,  after  regarding 
it  for  some  time,  pronounced  it  to  be  of  veritable  Spanish  work 
manship. 

"  I'll  warrant,"  said  he,  "  if  this  pistol  could  talk,  it  would  tell 
strange  stories  of  hard  fights  among  the  Spanish  Dons.  I've  no 
doubt  but  it  is  a  relic  of  the  buccaneers  of  old  times — who  knows 
but  it  belonged  to  Kidd  himself?" 

"  Ah !  that  Kidd  was  a  resolute  fellow,"  cried  an  old  iron- 
faced  Cape  Cod  whaler. — "  There's  a  fine  old  song  about  him,  all 
to  the  tune  of — 

My  name  is  Captain  Kidd, 
As  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed — 

And  then  it  tells  about  how  he  gained  the  devil's  good  graces  by 
burying  the  Bible : 

I  had  the  Bible  in  my  hand, 

As  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
And  I  buried  it  in  the  sand 

As  I  sailed. — 

"  Odsfish,  if  I  thought  this  pistol  had  belonged  to  Kidd,  I 
should  set  great  store  by  it,  for  curiosity's  sake.  By  the  way,  I 
recollect  a  story  about  a  fellow  who  once  dug  up  Kidd's  buried 
money,  which  was  written  by  a  neighbor  of  mine,  and  which  I 
learnt  by  heart.  As  the  fish  don't  bite  just  now,  I'll  tell  it  to 
you,  by  way  of  passing  away  the  time." — And  so  saying,  he  gave 
us  the  following  narration. 


THE  DEVIL  AND  TOM  WALKER. 

A  FEW  miles  from  Boston  in  Massachusetts,  there  is  a  deep  inlet, 
winding  several  miles  into  the  interior  of  the  country  from 
Charles  Bay,  and  terminating  in  a  thickly- wooded  swamp  or 
morass.  On  one  side  of  this  inlet  is  a  beautiful  dark  grove ;  on 
the  opposite  side  the  land  rises  abruptly  from  the  water's  edge 
into  a  high  ridge,  on  which  grow  a  few  scattered  oaks  of  great 
age  and  immense  size.  Under  one  of  these  gigantic  trees,  ac 
cording  to  old  stories,  there  was  a  great  amount  of  treasure 
buried  by  Kidd  the  pirate.  The  inlet  allowed  a  facility  to  bring 
the  money  in  a  boat  secretly  and  at  night  to  the  very  foot  of  the 
hill ;  the  elevation  of  the  place  permitted  a  good  look-out  to  be 
kept  that  no  one  was  at  hand ;  while  the  remarkable  trees  formed 
good  landmarks  by  which  the  place  might  easily  be  found  again. 
The  old  stories  add,  moreover,  that  the  devil  presided  at  the 
hiding  of  the  money,  and  took  it  under  his  guardianship  ;  but 
this  it  is  well  known  he  always  does  with  buried  treasure,  parti 
cularly  when  it  has  been  ill-gotten.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Kidd 
never  returned  to  recover  his  wealth  ;  being  shortly  after  seized 
at  Boston,  sent  out  to  England,  and  there  hanged  for  a  pirate. 

About  the  year  1727,  just  at  the  time  that  earthquakes  were 
prevalent  in  New-England,  and  shook  many  tall  sinners  down 
upon  their  knees,  there  lived  near  this  place  a  meagre,  miserly 


THE   DEVIL   AND   TOM   WALKER.  377 


fellow,  of  the  name  of  Tom  Walker.  He  had  a  wife  as  miserly 
as  himself:  they  were  so  miserly  that  they  even  conspired  to 
cheat  each  other.  Whatever  the  woman  could  lay  hands  on,  she 
hid  away ;  a  hen  could  not  cackle  but  she  was  on  the  alert  to 
secure  the  new-laid  egg.  Her  husband  was  continually  prying 
about  to  detect  her  secret  hoards,  and  many  and  fierce  were  the 
conflicts  that  took  place  about  what  ought  to  have  been  common 
property.  They  lived  in  a  forlorn-looking  house  that  stood  alone, 
and  had  an  air  of  starvation.  A  few  straggling  savin-trees, 
emblems  of  sterility,  grew  near  it ;  no  smoke  ever  curled  from 
its  chimney;  no  traveller  stopped  at  its  door.  A  miserable 
horse,  whose  ribs  were  as  articulate  as  the  bars  of  a  gridiron, 
stalked  about  a  field,  where  a  thin  carpet  of  moss,  scarcely 
covering  the  ragged  beds  of  puddingstone,  tantalized  and  balked 
his  hunger;  and  sometimes  he  would  lean  his  head  over  the 
fence,  look  piteously  at  the  passer-by,  and  seem  to  petition  deli 
verance  from  this  land  of  famine. 

The  house  and  its  inmates  had  altogether  a  bad  name. 
Tom's  wife  was  a  tall  termagant,  fierce  of  temper,  loud  of  tongue, 
and  strong  of  arm.  Her  voice  was  often  heard  in  wordy  war 
fare  with  her  husband ;  and  his  face  sometimes  showed  signs  that 
their  conflicts  were  not  confined  to  words.  No  one  ventured, 
however,  to  interfere  between  them.  The  lonely  wayfarer 
shrunk  within  himself  at  the  horrid  clamor  and  clapper-clawing ; 
eyed  the  den  of  discord  askance ;  and  hurried  on  his  way,  re 
joicing,  if  a  bachelor,  in  his  celibacy. 

One  day  that  Tom  Walker  had  been  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
neighborhood,  he  took  what  he  considered  a  short  cut  homeward, 
through  the  swamp.  Like  most  short  cuts,  it  was  an  ill-chosen 
route.  The  swamp  was  thickly  grown  with  great  gloomy  pines 


378  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


and  hemlocks,  some  of  them  ninety  feet  high,  which  made  it  dark 
at  noonday,  and  a  retreat  for  all  the  owls  of  the  neighborhood. 
It  was  full  of  pits  and  quagmires,  partly  covered  with  weeds  and 
mosses,  where  the  green  surface  often  betrayed  the  traveller  into 
a  gulf  of  black,  smothering  mud :  there  were  also  dark  and  stag 
nant  pools,  the  abodes  of  the  tadpole,  the  bull-frog,  and  the  water- 
snake  ;  where  the  trunks  of  pines  and  hemlocks  lay  half-drowned, 
half-rotting,  looking  like  alligators  sleeping  in  the  mire. 

Tom  had  long  been  picking  his  way  cautiously  through  this 
treacherous  forest ;  stepping  from  tuft  to  tuft  of  rushes  and  roots, 
which  afforded  precarious  footholds  among  deep  sloughs ;  or 
pacing  carefully,  like  a  cat,  along  the  prostrate  trunks  of  trees ; 
startled  now  and  then  by  the  sudden  screaming  of  the  bittern,  or 
the  quacking  of  a  wild  duck,  rising  on  the  wing  from  some  soli 
tary  pool.  At  length  he  arrived  at  a  piece  of  firm  ground,  which 
ran  out  like  a  peninsula  into  the  deep  bosom  of  the  swamp.  It 
had  been  one  of  the  strong-holds  of  the  Indians  during  their  wars 
with  the  first  colonists.  Here  they  had  thrown  up  a  kind  of  fort, 
which  they  had  looked  upon  as  almost  impregnable,  and  had  used 
as  a  place  of  refuge  for  their  squaws  and  children.  Nothing  re 
mained  of  the  old  Indian  fort  but  a  few  embankments,  gradually 
sinking  to  the  level  of  the  surrounding  earth,  and  already  over 
grown  in  part  by  oaks  and  other  forest  trees,  the  foliage  of 
which  formed  a  contrast  to  the  dark  pines  and  hemlocks  of  the 
swamp. 

It  was  late  in  the  dusk  of  evening  when  Tom  Walker  reached 
the  old  fort,  and  he  paused  there  awhile  to  rest  himself.  Any 
one  but  he  would  have  felt  unwilling  to  linger  in  this  lonely,  mel 
ancholy  place,  for  the  common  people  had  a  bad  opinion  of  it, 
from  the  stories  handed  down  from  the  time  of  the  Indian  wars ; 


THE   DEVIL  AND  TOM   WALKER.  379 


when  it  was  asserted  that  the  savages  held  incantations  here,  and 
made  sacrifices  to  the  evil  spirit. 

Tom  Walker,  however,  was  not  a  man  to  be  troubled  with 
any  fears  of  the  kind.  He  reposed  himself  for  some  time  on  the 
trunk  of  a  fallen  hemlock,  listening  to  the  boding  cry  of  the  tree 
toad,  and  delving  with  his  walking  staff  into  a  mound  of  black 
mould  at  his  feet.  As  he  turned  up  the  soil  unconsciously,  his 
staff  struck  against  something  hard.  He  raked  it  out  of  the  vege 
table  mould,  and  lo  !  a  cloven  skull,  with  an  Indian  tomahawk 
buried  deep  in  it,  lay  before  him.  The  rust  on  the  weapon 
showed  the  time  that  had  elapsed  since  this  death-blow  had  been 
given.  It  was  a  dreary  memento  of  the  fierce  struggle  that  had 
taken  place  in  this  last  foothold  of  the  Indian  warriors. 

"  Humph !"  said  Tom  Walker,  as  he  gave  it  a  kick  to  shake 
the  dirt  from  it. 

"  Let  that  skull  alone  !"  said  a  gruff  voice.  Tom  lifted  up 
his  eyes,  and  beheld  a  great  black  man  seated  directly  opposite 
him,  on  the  stump  of  a  tree.  He  was  exceedingly  surprised, 
having  neither  heard  nor  seen  any  one  approach  ;  and  he  was 
still  more  perplexed  on  observing,  as  well  as  the  gathering  gloom 
would  permit,  that  the  stranger  was  neither  negro  nor  Indian.  It 
is  true  he  was  dressed  in  a  rude  half  Indian  garb,  and  had  a  red 
belt  or  sash  swathed  round  his  body ;  but  his  face  was  neither 
black  nor  copper-color,  but  swarthy  and  dingy,  and  begrimed 
with  soot,  as  if  he  had  been  accustomed  to  toil  among  fires  and 
forges.  He  had  a  shock  of  coarse  black  hair,  that  stood  out 
from  his  head  in  all  directions,  and  bore  an  axe  on  his 
shoulder. 

He  scowled  for  a  moment  at  Tom  with  a  pair  of  great  red 
eyes. 


380  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


"  What  are  you  doing  on  my  grounds  ?"  said  the  black  man, 
with  a  hoarse  growling  voice. 

"  Your  grounds  !"  said  Tom  with  a  sneer,  "  no  more  your 
grounds  than  mine  ;  they  belong  to  Deacon  Peabody." 

"  Deacon  Peabody  be  d d,"  said  the  stranger,  "  as  I  flat 
ter  myself  he  will  be,  if  he  does  not  look  more  to  his  own  sins 
and  less  to  those  of  his  neighbors.  Look  yonder,  and  see  how 
Deacon  Peabody  is  faring." 

Tom  looked  in  the  direction  that  the  stranger  pointed,  and 
beheld  one  of  the  great  trees,  fair  and  flourishing  without,  but  rotten 
at  the  core,  and  saw  that  it  had  been  nearly  hewn  through,  so  that 
the  first  high  wind  was  likely  to  blow  it  down.  On  the  bark  of 
the  tree  was  scored  the  name  of  Deacon  Peabody,  an  eminent 
man,  who  had  waxed  wealthy  by  driving  shrewd  bargains  with 
the  Indians.  He  now  looked  round,  and  found  most  of  the  tall 
trees  marked  with  the  name  of  some  great  man  of  the  colony,  and 
all  more  or  less  scored  by  the  axe.  The  one  on  which  he  had 
been  seated,  and  which  had  evidently  just  been  hewn  down,  bore 
the  name  of  Crowninshield ;  and  he  recollected  a  mighty  rich 
man  of  that  name,  who  made  a  vulgar  display  of  wealth,  which 
it  was  whispered  he  had  acquired  by  buccaneering. 

"  He's  just  ready  for  burning !"  said  the  black  man,  with  a 
growl  of  triumph.  "  You  see  I  am  likely  to  have  a  good  stock 
of  firewood  for  winter." 

"  But  what  right  have  you,"  said  Tom,  "  to  cut  down  Deacon 
Peabody's  timber  ?" 

"  The  right  of  a  prior  claim,"  said  the  other.  "  This  wood 
land  belonged  to  me  long  before  one  of  your  white-faced  race 
put  foot  upon  the  soil." 

"  And  pray,  who  are  you,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  ?"  said  Tom. 


THE  DEVIL  AND  TOM  WALKER.  381 


"  Oh,  I  go  by  various  names.  I  am  the  wild  huntsman  in 
some  countries  ;  the  black  miner  in  others.  In  this  neighborhood 
I  am  known  by  the  name  of  the  black  woodsman.  I  am  he  to 
whom  the  red  men  consecrated  this  spot,  and  in  honor  of  whom 
they  now  and  then  roasted  a  white  man,  by  way  of  sweet-smell 
ing  sacrifice.  Since  the  red  men  have  been  exterminated  by  you 
white  savages,  I  amuse  myself  by  presiding  at  the  persecutions 
of  Quakers  and  Anabaptists  ;  I  am  the  great  patron  and  prompter 
of  slave-dealers,  and  the  grand-master  of  the  Salem  witches." 

"  The  upshot  of  all  which  is,  that,  if  I  mistake  not,"  said  Tom, 
sturdily,  "  you  are  he  commonly  called  Old  Scratch." 

"The  same,  at  your  service!"  replied  the  black  man,  with  a 
half  civil  nod. 

Such  was  the  opening  of  this  interview,  according  to  the  old 
story ;  though  it  has  almost  too  familiar  an  air  to  be  credited. 
One  would  think  that  to  meet  with  such  a  singular  personage,  in 
this  wild,  lonely  place,  would  have  shaken  any  man's  nerves  ;  but 
Tom  was  a  hard-minded  fellow,  not  easily  daunted,  and  he  had 
lived  so  long  with  a  termagant  wife,  that  he  did  not  even  fear 
the  devil. 

It  is  said  that  after  this  commencement  they  had  a  long  and 
earnest  conversation  together,  as  Tom  returned  homeward.  The 
black  man  told  him  of  great  sums  of  money  buried  by  Kidd  the 
pirate,  under  the  oak-trees  on  the  high  ridge,  not  far  from  the 
morass.  All  these  were  under  his  command,  and  protected  by 
his  power,  so  that  none  could  find  them  but  such  as  propitiated 
his  favor.  These  he  offered  to  place  within  Tom  Walker's  reach, 
having  conceived  an  especial  kindness  for  him ;  but  they  were  to 
be  had  only  on  certain  conditions.  What  these  conditions  were 
may  easily  be  surmised,  though  Tom  never  disclosed  them  pub- 


TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


licly.  They  must  have  been  very  hard,  for  he  required  time  to 
think  of  them,  and  he  was  not  a  man  to  stick  at  trifles  where 
money  was  in  view.  When  they  had  reached  the  edge  of  the 
swamp,  the  stranger  paused — "  What  proof  have  I  that  all  you 
have  been  telling  me  is  true  ?"  said  Tom.  "  There  is  my  signature," 
said  the  black  man,  pressing  his  finger  on  Tom's  forehead.  So 
saying,  he  turned  off  among  the  thickets  of  the  swamp,  and 
seemed,  as  Tom  said,  to  go  down,  down,  down,  into  the  earth,  until 
nothing  but  his  head  and  shoulders  could  be  seen,  and  so  on,  until 
he  totally  disappeared. 

When  Tom  reached  home,  he  found  the  black  print  of  a  finger, 
burnt,  as  it  were,  into  his  forehead,  which  nothing  could  obliterate. 

The  first  news  his  wife  had  to  tell  him  was  the  sudden  death 
of  Absalom  Crownin shield,  the  rich  buccaneer.  It  was  announced 
in  the  papers  with  the  usual  flourish,  that  "  A  great  man  had 
fallen  in  Israel." 

Tom  recollected  the  tree  which  his  black  friend  had  just  hewn 
down,  and  which  was  ready  for  burning,  "  Let  the  freebooter 
roast,"  said  Tom,  "  who  cares  !"  He  now  felt  convinced  that  all 
he  had  heard  and  seen  was  no  illusion. 

He  was  not  prone  to  let  his  wife  into  his  confidence ;  but  as 
this  was  an  uneasy  secret,  he  willingly  shared  it  with  her.  All 
her  avarice  was  awakened  at  the  mention  of  hidden  gold,  and  she 
urged  her  husband  to  comply  with  the  black  man's  terms,  and 
secure  what  would  make  them  wealthy  for  life.  However  Tom 
might  have  felt  disposed  to  sell  himself  to  the  Devil,  he  was  de 
termined  not  to  do  so  to  oblige  his  wife  ;  so  he  flatly  refused,  out 
of  the  mere  spirit  of  contradiction.  Many  and  bitter  were  the 
quarrels  they  had  on  the  subject,  but  the  more  she  talked,  the 
more  resolute  was  Tom  not  to  be  damned  to  please  her. 


THE   DEVIL   AND  TOM   WALKER.  383 


At  length  she  determined  to  drive  the  bargain  on  her  own 
account,  and  if  she  succeeded,  to  keep  all  the  gain  to  herself. 
Being  of  the  same  fearless  temper  as  her  husband,  she  set  off  for 
the  old  Indian  fort  towards  the  close  of  a  summer's  day.  She 
was  many  hours  absent.  When  she  came  back,  she  was  reserved 
and  sullen  in  her  replies.  She  spoke  something  of  a  black  man, 
whom  she  had  met  about  twilight,  hewing  at  the  root  of  a  tall 
tree.  He  was  sulky,  however,  and  would  not  come  to  terms :  she 
was  to  go  again  with  a  propitiatory  offering,  but  what  it  was  she 
forbore  to  say. 

The  next  evening  she  sat  off  again  for  the  swamp,  with  her 
apron  heavily  laden.  Tom  waited  and  waited  for  her,  but  in 
vain;  midnight  came,  but  she  did  not  make  her  appearance: 
morning,  noon,  night  returned,  but  still  she  did  not  come.  Tom 
now  grew  uneasy  for  her  safety,  ^especially  as  he  found  she  had 
carried  off  in  her  apron  the  silver  teapot  and  spoons,  and  every 
portable  article  of  value.  Another  night  elapsed,  another  morn 
ing  came ;  but  no  wife.  In  a  word,  she  was  never  heard  of  more. 

What  was  her  real  fate  nobody  knows,  in  consequence  of  so 
many  pretending  to  know.  It  is  one  of  those  facts  which  have 
become  confounded  by  a  variety  of  historians.  Some  asserted 
that  she  lost  her  way  among  the  tangled  mazes  of  the  swamp, 
and  sank  into  some  pit  or  slough ;  others,  more  uncharitable, 
hinted  that  she  had  eloped  with  the  household  booty,  and  made 
off  to  some  other  province ;  while  others  surmised  that  the 
tempter  had  decoyed  her  into  a  dismal  quagmire,  on  the  top  of 
which  her  hat  was  found  lying.  In  confirmation  of  this,  it  was 
said  a  great  black  man,  with  an  axe  on  his  shoulder,  was  seen 
late  that  very  evening  coming  out  of  the  swamp,  carrying  a  bun 
dle  tied  in  a  check  apron,  with  an  air  of  surly  triumph. 


384  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


The  most  current  and  probable  story,  however,  observes,  that 
Tom  Walker  grew  so  anxious  about  the  fate  of  his  wife  and  his 
property,  that  he  set  out  at  length  to  seek  them  both  at  the  Indian 
fort.  During  a  long  summer's  afternoon  he  searched  about  the 
gloomy  place,  but  no  wife  was  to  be  seen.  He  called  her  name 
repeatedly,  but  she  was  nowhere  to  be  heard.  The  bittern  alone 
responded  to  his  voice,  as  he  flew  screaming  by ;  or  the  bull-frog 
croaked  dolefully  from  a  neighboring  pool.  At  length,  it  is  said, 
just  in  the  brown  hour  of  twilight,  when  the  owls  began  to  hoot, 
and  the  bats  to  flit  about,  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the  clamor 
of  carrion  crows  hovering  about  a  cypress-tree.  He  looked  up, 
and  beheld  a  bundle  tied  in  a  check  apron,  and  hanging  in  the 
branches  of  the  tree,  with  a  great  vulture  perched  hard  by,  as  if 
keeping  watch  upon  it.  He  leaped  with  joy ;  for  he  recognized 
his  wife's  apron,  and  supposed,  it  to  contain  the  household  valu 
ables. 

"  Let  us  get  hold  of  the  property,"  said  he,  consolingly  to 
himself,  "  and  we  will  endeavor  to  do  without  the  woman." 

As  he  scrambled  up  the  tree,  the  vulture  spread  its  wide 
wings,  and  sailed  off  screaming  into  the  deep  shadows  of  the 
forest.  Tom  seized  the  check  apron,  but  woful  sight!  found 
nothing  but  a  heart  and  liver  tied  up  in  it ! 

Such,  according  to  the  most  authentic  old  story,  was  all  that 
was  to  be  found  of  Tom's  wife.  She  had  probably  attempted  to 
deal  with  the  black  man  as  she  had  been  accustomed  to  deal  with 
her  husband ;  but  though  a  female  scold  is  generally  considered  a 
match  for  the  devil,  yet  in  this  instance  she  appears  to  have  had 
the  worst  of  it.  She  must  have  died  game,  however ;  for  it  is 
said  Tom  noticed  many  prints  of  cloven  feet  deeply  stamped 
about  the  tree,  and  found  handfuls  of  hair,  that  looked  as  if  they 


THE   DEVIL   AND   TOM   WALKER.  385 

had  been  plucked  from  the  coarse  black  shock  of  the  woodman. 
Tom  knew  his  wife's  prowess  by  experience.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  as  he  looked  at  the  signs  of  a  fierce  clapper-clawing. 
"  Egad,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  Old  Scratch  must  have  had  a  tough 
time  of  it!" 

Tom  consoled  himself  for  the  loss  of  his  property,  with  the 
loss  of  his  wife,  for  he  was  a  man  of  fortitude.  He  even  felt 
something  like  gratitude  towards  the  black  woodman,  who, . he 
considered,  had  done  him  a  kindness.  He  sought,  therefore,  to 
cultivate  a  further  acquaintance  with  him,  but  for  some  time  with 
out  success ;  the  old  black-legs  played  shy,  for  whatever  people 
may  think,  he  is  not  always  to  be  had  for  calling  for :  he  knows 
how  to  play  his  cards  when  pretty  sure  of  his  game. 

At  length,  it  is  said,  when  delay  had  whetted  Tom's  eagerness 
to  the  quick,  and  prepared  him  to  agree  to  any  thing  rather  than 
not  gain  the  promised  treasure,  he  met  the  black  man  one  even 
ing  in  his  usual  woodman's  dress,  with  his  axe  on  his  shoulder, 
sauntering  along  the  swamp,  and  humming  a  tune.  He  affected 
to  receive  Tom's  advances  with  great  indifference,  made  brief  re 
plies,  and  went  on  humming  his  tune. 

By  degrees,  however,  Tom  brought  him  to  business,  and  they 
began  to  haggle  about  the  terms  on  which  the  former  was  to  have 
the  pirate's  treasure.  There  was  one  condition  which  need  not  be 
mentioned,  being  generally  understood  in  all  cases  where  the 
devil  grants  favors ;  but  there  were  others  about  which,  though 
of  less  importance,  he  was  inflexibly  obstinate.  He  insisted  that 
the  money  found  through  his  means  should  be  employed  in  his 
service.  He  proposed,  therefore,  that  Tom  should  employ  it  in  the 
black  traffick  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  he  should  fit  out  a  slave-ship. 
This,  however,  Tom  resolutely  refused :  he  was  bad  enough  in 

17 


386  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


all  conscience ;  but  the  devil  himself  could  not  tempt  him  to  turn 
slave-trader. 

Finding  Tom  so  squeamish  on  this  point,  he  did  not  insist 
upon  it,  but  proposed,  instead,  that  he  should  turn  usurer ;  the 
devil  being  extremely  anxious  for  the  increase  of  usurers,  looking 
upon  them  as  his  peculiar  people. 

To  this  no  objections  were  made,  for  it  was  just  to  Tom's  taste. 

"  You  shall  open  a  broker's  shop  in  Boston  next  month,"  said 
the  black  man. 

"  I'll  do  it  to-morrow,  if  you  wish,"  said  Tom  Walker. 

"  You  shall  lend  money  at  two  per  cent,  a  month.'* 

"  Egad,  I'll  charge  four !"  replied  Tom  Walker. 

"  You  shall  extort  bonds,  foreclose  mortgages,  drive  the  mer 
chant  to  bankruptcy " 

"I'll  drive  him  to  the  d 1,"  cried  Tom  Walker. 

"  You  are  the  usurer  for  my  money  !"  said  the  black-legs  with 
delight.  "  When  will  you  want  the  rhino  ?" 

"  This  very  night." 

"  Done  !"  said  the  devil. 

"  Done !"  said  Tom  Walker. — So  they  shook  hands  and 
struck  a  bargain. 

A  few  days'  time  saw  Tom  Walker  seated  behind  his  desk  in 
a  counting-house  in  Boston. 

His  reputation  for  a  ready-moneyed  man,  who  would  lend 
money  out  for  a  good  consideration,  soon  spread  abroad.  Every 
body  remembers  the  time  of  Governor  Belcher,  when  money 
was  particularly  scarce.  It  was  a  time  of  paper  credit.  The 
country  had  been  deluged  with  government  bills ;  the  famous 
Land  Bank  had  been  established  ;  there  had  been  a  rage  for  spe 
culating  ;  the  people  had  run  mad  with  schemes  for  new  settle- 


THE  DEVIL  AND  TOM   WALKER.  387 


ments ;  for  building  cities  in  the  wilderness ;  land-jobbers  went 
about  with  maps  of  grants,  and  townships,  and  Eldorados,  lying 
nobody  knew  where,  but  which  every  body  was  ready  to  purchase. 
In  a  word,  the  great  speculating  fever  which  breaks  out  every 
now  and  then  in  the  country,  had  raged  to  an  alarming  degree, 
and  every  body  was  dreaming  of  making  sudden  fortunes  from 
nothing.  As  usual  the  fever  had  subsided ;  the  dream  had  gone 
off,  and  the  imaginary  fortunes  with  it ;  the  patients  were  left  in 
doleful  plight,  and  the  whole  country  resounded  with  the  conse 
quent  cry  of  "  hard  times." 

At  this  propitious  time  of  public  distress  did  Tom  Walker  set 
up  as  usurer  in  Boston.  His  door  was  soon  thronged  by  custom 
ers.  The  needy  and  adventurous ;  the  gambling  speculator ;  the 
dreaming  land-jobber ;  the  thriftless  tradesman ;  the  merchant 
with  cracked  credit ;  in  short,  every  one  driven  to  raise  money 
by  desperate  means  and  desperate  sacrifices,  hurried  to  Tom 
Walker. 

Thus  Tom  was  the  universal  friend  of  the  needy,  and  acted 
like  a  "  friend  in  need ;"  that  is  to  say,  he  always  exacted  good 
pay  and  good  security.  In  proportion  to  the  distress  of  the  appli 
cant  was  the  hardness  of  his  terms.  He  accumulated  bonds  and 
mortgages ;  gradually  squeezed  his  customers  closer  and  closer : 
and  sent  them  at  length,  dry  as  a  sponge,  from  his  door. 

In  this  way  he  made  money  hand  over  hand  ;  became  a  rich 
and  mighty  man,  and  exalted  his  cocked  hat  upon  'Change.  He 
built  himself,  as  usual,  a  vast  house,  out  of  ostentation ;  but  left 
the  greater  part  of  it  unfinished  and  unfurnished,  out  of  parsi 
mony.  He  even  set  up  a  carriage  in  the  fulness  of  his  vainglory, 
though  he  nearly  starved  the  horses  which  drew  it ;  and  as  the 
ungreased  wheels  groaned  and  screeched  on  the  axle-trees,  you 


TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


would  have  thought  you  heard  the  souls  of  the  poor  debtors  he 
was  squeezing. 

As  Tom  waxed  old,  however,  he  grew  thoughtful.  Having 
secured  the  good  things  of  this  world,  he  began  to  feel  anxious 
about  those  of  the  next.  He  thought  with  regret  on  the  bargain 
he  had  made  with  his  black  friend,  and  set  his  wits  to  work  to 
cheat  him  out  of  the  conditions.  He  became,  therefore,  all  of  a 
sudden,  a  violent  church-goer.  He  prayed  loudly  and  strenuously, 
as  if  heaven  were  to  be  taken  by  force  of  lungs.  Indeed,  one 
might  always  tell  when  he  had  sinned  most  during  the  week,  by 
the  clamor  of  his  Sunday  devotion.  The  quiet  Christians  who 
had  been  modestly  and  steadfastly  travelling  Zionward,  were 
struck  with  self-reproach  at  seeing  themselves  so  suddenly  out 
stripped  in  their  career  by  this  new-made  convert.  Tom  was  as 
rigid  in  religious  as  in  money  matters ;  he  was  a  stern  supervisor 
and  censurer  of  his  neighbors,  and  seemed  to  think  every  sin 
entered  up  to  their  account  became  a  credit  on  his  own  side  of 
the  page.  He  even  talked  of  the  expediency  of  reviving  the 
persecution  of  Quakers  and  Anabaptists.  In  a  word,  Tom's  zeal 
became  as  notorious  as  his  riches. 

Still,  in  spite  of  all  this  strenuous  attention  to  forms,  Tom 
had  a  lurking  dread  that  the  devil,  after  all,  would  have  his  due. 
That  he  might  not  be  taken  unawares,  therefore,  it  is  said  he 
always  carried  a  small  Bible  in  his  coat-pocket.  He  had  also  a 
great  folio  Bible  on  his  counting-house  desk,  and  would  frequently 
be  found  reading  it  when  people  called  on  business  ;  on  such  oc 
casions  he  would  lay  his  green  spectacles  in  the  book,  to  mark  th*e 
place,  while  he  turned  round  to  drive  some  usurious  bargain. 

Some  say  that  Tom  grew  a  little  crack-brained  in  his  old 
days,  and  that  fancying  his  end  approaching,  he  had  his  horse 


THE  DEVIL  AND  TOM   WALKER.  389 


new  shod,  saddled  and  bridled,  and  buried  with  his  feet  upper 
most  ;  because  he  supposed  that  at  the  last  day  the  world  would 
be  turned  upside  down ;  in  which  case  he  should  find  his  horse 
standing  ready  for  mounting,  and  he  was  determined  at  the  worst 
to  give  his  old  friend  a  run  for  it.  This,  however,  is  probably  a 
mere  old  wives'  fable.  If  he  really  did  take  such  a  precaution,  it 
was  totally  superfluous  ;  at  least  so  says  the  authentic  old  legend, 
which  closes  his  story  in  the  following  manner. 

One  hot  summer  afternoon  in  the  dog-days,  just  as  a  terrible 
black  thundergust  was  coming  up,  Tom  sat  in  his  counting-house 
in  his  white  linen  cap  and  India  silk  morning- gown.  He  was  on 
the  point  of  foreclosing  a  mortgage,  by  which  he  would  complete 
the  ruin  of  an  unlucky  land  speculator  for  whom  he  had  professed 
the  greatest  friendship.  The  poor  land-jobber  begged  him  to 
grant  a  few  months'  indulgence.  Tom  had  grown  testy  and  irri 
tated,  and  refused  another  day. 

"  My  family  will  be  ruined  and  brought  upon  the  parish,"  said 
the  land-jobber.  "  Charity  begins  at  home,"  replied  Tom ;  "  I 
must  take  care  of  myself  in  these  hard  times." 

"You  have  made  so  much  money  out  of  me,"  said  the 
speculator. 

Tom  lost  his  patience  and  his  piety — "  The  devil  take  me," 
said  he,  "  if  I  have  made  a  farthing !" 

Just  then  there  were  three  loud  knocks  at  the  street  door. 
He  stepped  out  to  see  who  was  there.  A  black  man  was  holding 
a  black  horse,  which  neighed  and  stamped  with  impatience. 

"  Tom,  you're  come  for,"  said  the  black  fellow,  gruffly.  Tom 
shrunk  back,  but  too  late.  He  had  left  his  little  Bible  at  the 
bottom  of  his  coat-pocket,  and  his  big  Bible  on  the  desk  buried 
under  the  mortgage  he  was  about  to  foreclose :  never  was  sinner 


390  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


taken  more  unawares.  The  black  man  whisked  him  like  a  child 
into  the  saddle,  gave  the  horse  the  lash,  and  away  he  galloped, 
with  Tom  on  his  back,  in  the  midst  of  the  thunderstorm.  The 
clerks  stuck  their  pens  behind  their  ears,  and  stared  after  him 
from  the  windows.  Away  went  Tom  Walker,  dashing  down  the 
streets ;  his  white  cap  bobbing  up  and  down ;  his  morning-gown 
fluttering  in  the  wind,  and  his  steed  striking  fire  out  of  the  pave 
ment  at  every  bound.  When  the  clerks  turned  to  look  for  the 
black  man  he  had  disappeared. 

Tom  Walker  never  returned  to  foreclose  the  mortgage.  A 
countryman  who  lived  on  the  border  of  the  swamp,  reported  that 
in  the  height  of  the  thundergust  he  had  heard  a  great  clattering 
of  hoofs  and  a  howling  along  the  road,  and  running  to  the  win 
dow  caught  sight  of  a  figure,  such  as  I  have  described,  on  a  horse 
that  galloped  like  mad  across  the  fields,  over  the  hills  and  down 
into  the  black  hemlock  swamp  towards  the  old  Indian  fort ;  and 
that  shortly  after  a  thunderbolt  falling  in  that  direction  seemed  to 
set  the  whole  forest  in  a  blaze. 

The  good  people  of  Boston  shook  their  heads  and  shrugged 
their  shoulders,  but  had  been  so  much  accustomed  to  witches  and 
goblins  and  tricks  of  the  devil,  in  all  kind  of  shapes  from  the 
first  settlement  of  the  colony,  that  they  were  not  so  much  horror- 
struck  as  might  have  been  expected.  Trustees  were  appointed 
to  take  charge  of  Tom's  effects.  There  wras  nothing,  however,  to 
administer  upon.  On  searching  his  coffers  all  his  bonds  and 
mortgages  were  found  reduced  to  cinders.  In  place  of  gold  and 
silver  his  iron  chest  was  filled  with  chips  and  shavings ;  two 
skeletons  lay  in  his  stable  instead  of  his  half-starved  horses,  and 
the  very  next  day  his  great  house  took  fire  and  was  burnt  to  the 
ground. 


THE   DEVIL  AND   TOM  WALKER.  391 


Such  was  the  end  of  Tom  Walker  and  his  ill-gotten  wealth. 
Let  all  griping  money-brokers  lay  this  story  to  heart.  The  truth 
of  it  is  not  to  be  doubted.  The  very  hole  under  the  oak-trees, 
whence  he  dug  Kidd's  money,  is  to  be  seen  to  this  day ;  and  the 
neighboring  swamp  and  old  Indian  fort  are  often  haunted  in 
stormy  nights  by  a  figure  on  horseback,  in  morning-gown  and 
white  cap,  which  is  doubtless  the  troubled  spirit  of  the  usurer. 
In  fact,  the  story  has  resolved  itself  into  a  proverb,  and  is  the 
origin  of  that  popular  saying,  so  prevalent  throughout  New 
England,  of  "  The  Devil  and  Tom  Walker." 


Such,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  was  the  purport  of  the  tale 
told  by  the  Cape  Cod  whaler.  There  were  divers  trivial  partic 
ulars  which  I  have  omitted,  and  which  whiled  away  the  morning 
very  pleasantly,  until  the  time  of  tide  favorable  to  fishing  being 
passed,  it  was  proposed  to  land,  and  refresh  ourselves  under  the 
trees,  till  the  noontide  heat  should  have  abated. 

We  accordingly  landed  on  a  delectable  part  of  the  island  of 
Mannahatta,  in  that  shady  and  embowered  tract  formerly  under 
the  dominion  of  the  ancient  family  of  the  Hardenbrooks.  It  was 
a  spot  well  known  to  me  in  the  course  of  the  aquatic  expeditions 
of  my  boyhood.  Not  far  from  where  we  landed,  there  was  an 
old  Dutch  family  vault,  constructed  in  the  side  of  a  bank,  which 
had  been  an  object  of  great  awe  and  fable  among  my  schoolboy 
associates.  We  had  peeped  into  it  during  one  of  our  coasting 
voyages,  and  been  startled  by  the  sight  of  mouldering  coffins  and 
musty  bones  within ;  but  what  had  given  it  the  most  fearful  in 
terest  in  our  eyes,  was  its  being  in  some  way  connected  with  the 


TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


pirate  wreck  which  lay  rotting  among  the  rocks  of  Hell-gate. 
There  were  stories  also  of  smuggling  connected  with  it,  particu 
larly  relating  to  a  time  when  this  retired  spot  was  owned  by  a 
noted  burgher  called  Ready  Money  Provost ;  a  man  of  whom  it 
was  whispered  that  he  had  many  and  mysterious  dealings  with 
parts  beyond  seas.  All  these  things,  however,  had  been  jumbled 
together  in  our  minds  in  that  vague  way  in  which  such  themes 
are  mingled  up  in  the  tales  of  boyhood. 

While  I  was  pondering  upon  these  matters,  my  companions 
had  spread  a  repast,  from  the  contents  of  our  well-stored  pannier, 
under  a  broad  chestnut,  on  the  greensward  which  swept  down  to 
the  water's  edge.  Here  we  solaced  ourselves  on  the  cool  grassy 
carpet  during  the  warm  sunny  hours  of  mid-day.  While  lolling 
on  the  grass,  indulging  in  that  kind  of  musing  reverie  of  which  I 
am  fond,  I  summoned  up  the  dusky  recollections  of  my  boyhood 
respecting  this  place,  and  repeated  them  like  the  imperfectly-re 
membered  traces  of  a  dream,  for  the  amusement  of  my  compan 
ions.  When  I  had  finished,  a  worthy  old  burgher,  John  Josse 
Vandermoere,  the  same  who  once  related  to  me  the  adventures 
of  Dolph  Heyliger,  broke  silence  and  observed,  that  he  recollect 
ed  a  story  of  money-digging  which  occurred  in  this  very  neigh 
borhood,  and  might  account  for  some  of  the  traditions  which  I 
had  heard  in  my  boyhood.  As  we  knew  him  to  be  one  of  the 
most  authentic  narrators  in  the  province,  we  begged  him  to  let  us 
have  the  particulars,  and  accordingly,  while  we  solaced  ourselves 
with  a  clean  long  pipe  of  Blase  Moore's  best  tobacco,  the  au 
thentic  John  Josse  Vandermoere  related  the  following  tale. 


WOLFERT  WEBBER,  OR  GOLDEN  DREAMS. 

N. 

IN  the  year  of  grace  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and — blank — 
for  I  do  not  remember  the  precise  date  ;  however,  it  was  some 
where  in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century,  there  lived  in  the 
ancient  city  of  the  Manhattoes  a  worthy  burgher,  Wolfert  Web 
ber  by  name.  He  was  descended  from  old  Cobus  Webber  of  the 
Brille  in  Holland,  one  of  the  original  settlers,  famous  for  intro 
ducing  the  cultivation  of  cabbages,  and  who  came  over  to  the 
province  during  the  protectorship  of  Oloffe  Van  Kortlandt,  other 
wise  called  the  Dreamer. 

The  field  in  which  Cobus  Webber  first  planted  himself  and 
his  cabbages  had  remained  ever  since  in  the  family,  who  con 
tinued  in  the  same  line  of  husbandry,  with  that  praiseworthy  per 
severance  for  which  our  Dutch  burghers  are  noted.  The  whole 
family  genius,  during  several  generations,  was  devoted  to  the 
study  and  development  of  this  one  noble  vegetable ;  and  to  this 
concentration  of  intellect  may  doubtless  be  ascribed  the  prodi 
gious  renown  to  which  the  Webber  cabbages  attained. 

The  Webber  dynasty  continued  in  uninterrupted  succession  ; 
and  never  did  a  line  give  more  unquestionable  proofs  of  legiti 
macy.  The  eldest  son  succeeded  to  the  looks,  as  well  as  the  ter 
ritory  of  fcis  sire  ;  and  had  the  portraits  of  this  line  of  tranquil 
potentates  been  taken,  they  would  have  presented  a  row  of  heads 

17* 


394  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


marvellously  resembling  in  shape  and  magnitude  the  vegetables 
over  which  they  reigned. 

The  seat  of  government  continued  unchanged  in  the  family 
mansion  : — a  Dutch-built  house,  with  a  front,  or  rather  gable-end 
of  yellow  brick,  tapering  to  a  point,  with  the  customary  iron 
weathercock  at  the  top.  Every  thing  about  the  building  bore  the 
air  of  long-settled  ease  and  security.  Flights  of  martins  peopled 
the  little  coops  nailed  against  its  walls,  and  swallows  built  their 
nests  under  the  eaves  ;  and  every  one  knows  that  these  house-lov 
ing  birds  bring  good  luck  to  the  dwelling  where  they  take  up  their 
abode.  In  a  bright  sunny  morning  in  early  summer,  it  was  de 
lectable  to  hear  their  cheerful  notes,  as  they  sported  about  in  the 
pure  sweet  air,  chirping  forth,  as  it  were,  the  greatness  and  pros 
perity  of  the  Webbers. 

Thus  quietly  and  comfortably  did  this  excellent  family  vege 
tate  under  the  shade  of  a  mighty  button-wood  tree,  which  by 
little  and  little  grew  so  great  as  entirely  to  overshadow  their  pal 
ace.  The  city  gradually  spread  its  suburbs  round  their  domain. 
Houses  sprang  up  to  interrupt  their  prospects.  The  rural  lanes 
in  the  vicinity  began  to  grow  into  the  bustle  and  populousness  of 
streets ;  in  short,  with  all  the  habits  of  rustic  life  they  began  to 
find  themselves  the  inhabitants  of  a  city.  Still,  however,  they 
maintained  their  hereditary  character,  and  hereditary  possessions, 
with  all  the  tenacity  of  petty  German  princes  in  the  midst  of  the 
empire.  Wolfert  was  the  last  of  the  line,  and  succeeded  to  the 
patriarchal  bench  at  the  door,  under  the  family  tree,  and  swayed 
the  sceptre  of  his  fathers,  a  kind  of  rural  potentate  in  the  midst 
of  a  metropolis. 

To  share  the  cares  and  sweets  of  sovereignty,  he  had  taken 
unto  himself  a  helpmate,  one  of  that  excellent  kind,  called  stir- 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  395 


ring  women ;  that  is  to  say,  she  was  one  of  those  notable  little 
housewives  who  are  always  busy  when  there  is  nothing  to  do. 
Her  activity,  however,  took  one  particular  direction  ;  her  whole 
life  seemed  devoted  to  intense  knitting ;  whether  at  home  or 
abroad,  walking  or  sitting,  her  needles  were  continually  in  mo 
tion,  and  it  is  even  affirmed  that  by  her  unwearied  industry  she 
very  nearly  supplied  her  household  with  stockings  throughout  the 
year.  This  worthy  couple  were  blessed  with  one  daughter,  who 
was  brought  up  with  great  tenderness  and  care  ;  uncommon  pains 
had  been  taken  with  her  education,  so  that  she  could  stitch  in 
every  variety  of  way ;  make  all  kinds  of  pickles  and  preserves, 
and  mark  her  own  name  on  a  sampler.  The  influence  of  her 
taste  was  seen  also  in  the  family  garden,  where  the  ornamental 
began  to  mingle  with  the  useful ;  whole  rows  of  fiery  marigolds 
and  splendid  hollyhocks  bordered  the  cabbage  beds  ;  and  gigantic 
sunflowers  lolled  their  broad  jolly  faces  over  the  fences,  seeming 
to  ogle  most  affectionately  the  passers-by. 

Thus  reigned  and  vegetated  Wolfert  Webber  over  his  pater 
nal  acres,  peacefully  and  contentedly.  Not  but  that,  like  all  other 
sovereigns,  he  had  his  occasional  cares  and  vexations.  The 
growth  of  his  native  city  sometimes  caused  him  annoyance.  His 
little  territory  gradually  became  hemmed  in  by  streets  and  houses, 
which  intercepted  air  and  sunshine.  He  was  now  and  then  sub 
jected  to  the  irruptions  of  the  border  population  that  infest  the 
streets  of  a  metropolis  ;  who  would  make  midnight  forays  into 
his  dominions,  and  carry  off  captive  whole  platoons  of  his  noblest 
subjects.  Vagrant  swine  would  make  a  descent,  too,  now  and 
then,  when  the  gate  was  left  open,  and  lay  all  waste  before  ^hem ; 
and  mischievous  urchins  would  decapitate  the  illustrious  sunflow 
ers,  the  glory  of  the  garden,  as  they  lolled  their  heads  so  fondly 


396  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


over  the  walls.  Still  all  these  were  petty  grievances,  which 
might  now  and  then  ruffle  the  surface  of  his  mind,  as  a  summer 
breeze  will  ruffle  the  surface  of  a  mill-pond ;  but  they  could  not 
disturb  the  deep-seated  quiet  of  his  soul.  He  would  but  seize  a 
trusty  staff,  that  stood  behind  the  door,  issue  suddenly  out,  and 
anoint  the  back  of  the  aggressor,  whether  pig  or  urchin,  and  then 
return  within  doors,  marvellously  refreshed  and  tranquillized. 

The  chief  cause  of  anxiety  to  honest  Wolfert,  however,  was 
the  growing  prosperity  of  the  city.  The  expenses  of  living 
doubled  and  trebled  ;  but  he  could  not  double  and  treble  the  mag 
nitude  of  his  cabbages  ;  and  the  number  of  competitors  prevented 
the  increase  of  price ;  thus,  therefore,  while  every  one  around 
him  grew  richer,  Wolfert  grew  poorer,  and  he  could  not,  for  the 
life  of  him,  perceive  how  the  evil  was  to  be  remedied. 

This  growing  care,  which  increased  from  day  to  day,  had  its 
gradual  effect  upon  our  worthy  burgher ;  insomuch,  that  it  at 
length  implanted  two  or  three  wrinkles  in  his  brow  ;  things  un 
known  before  in  the  family  of  the  Webbers ;  and  it  seemed  to 
pinch  up  the  corners  of  his  cocked  hat  into  an  expression  of 
anxiety,  totally  opposite  to  the  tranquil,  broad-brimmed,  low- 
crowned  beavers  of  his  illustrious  progenitors. 

Perhaps  even  this  would  not  have  materially  disturbed  the 
serenity  of  his  mind,  had  he  had  only  himself  and  his  wife  to 
care  for ;  but  there  was  his  daughter  gradually  growing  to  ma 
turity  ;  and  all  the  world  knows  that  when  daughters  begin  to 
ripen  no  fruit  nor  flower  requires  so  much  looking  after.  I  have 
no  talent  at  describing  female  charms,  else  fain  would  I  depict 
the  progress  of  this  little  Dutch  beauty.  How  her  blue  eyes 
grew  deeper  and  deeper,  and  her  cherry  lips  redder  and  redder ; 
and  how  she  ripened  and  ripened,  and  rounded  and  rounded  in 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  397 


the  opening  breath  of  sixteen  summers,  until,  in  her  seventeenth 
spring,  she  seemed  ready  to  burst  out  of  her  bodice,  like  a  half 
blown  rose-bud. 

Ah,  well-a-day  !  could  I  but  show  her  as  she  was  then,  tricked 
out  on  a  Sunday  morning,  in  the  hereditary  finery  of  the  old 
Dutch  clothes-press,  of  which  her  mother  had  confided  to  her  the 
key.  The  wedding-dress  of  her  grandmother,  modernized  for 
use,  with  sundry  ornaments,  handed  down  as  heirlooms  in  the 
family.  Her  pale  brown  hair  smoothed  with  buttermilk  in  flat 
waving  lines  on  each  side  of  her  fair  forehead.  The  chain  of 
yellow  virgin  gold,  that  encircled  her  neck  ;  the  little  cross,  that 
just  rested  at  the  entrance  of  a  soft  valley  of  happiness,  as  if  it 
would  sanctify  the  place.  The — but,  pooh  ! — it  is  not  for  an  old 
man  like  me  to  be  prosing  about  female  beauty ;  suffice  it  to  say, 
Amy  had  attained  her  seventeenth  year.  Long  since  had  her 
sampler  exhibited  hearts  in  couples  desperately  transfixed  with 
arrows,  and  true  lovers'  knots  worked  in  deep-blue  silk ;  and  it 
was  evident  she  began  to  languish  for  some  more  interesting 
occupation  than  the  rearing  of  sunflowers  or  pickling  of  cu 
cumbers. 

At  this  critical  period  of  female  existence,  when  the  heart 
within  a  damsel's  bosom,  like  its  emblem,  the  miniature  which 
hangs  without,  is  apt  to  be  engrossed  by  a  single  image,  a  new 
visitor  began  to  make  his  appearance  under  the  roof  of  Wolfert 
Webber.  This  was  Dirk  Waldron,  the  only  son  of  a  poor  widow, 
but  who  could  boast  of  more  fathers  than  any  lad  in  the  province  ; 
for  his  mother  had  had  four  husbands,  and  this  only  child,  so 
that  though  born  in  her  last  wedlock,  he  might  fairly  claim  to  be 
the  tardy  fruit  of  a  long  course  of  cultivation.  This  son  of  four 
fathers,  united  the  merits  and  the  vigor  of  all  his  sires.  If  he 


398  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


had  not  had  a  great  family  before  him,  he  seemed  likely  to  have 
a  great  one  after  him ;  for  you  had  only  to  look  at  the  fresh 
bucksome  youth,  to  see  that  he  was  formed  to  be  the  founder  of  a 
mighty  race. 

This  youngster  gradually  became  an  intimate  visitor  of  the 
family.  He  talked  little,  but  he  sat  long.  He  filled  the  father's 
pipe  when  it  was  empty,  gathered  up  the  mother's  knitting-needle, 
or  ball  of  worsted  when  it  fell  to  the  ground  ;  stroked  the  sleek 
coat  of  the  tortoise-shell  cat,  and  replenished  the  teapot  for  the 
daughter  from  the  bright  copper  kettle  that  sang  before  the  fire. 
All  these  quiet  little  offices  may  seem  of  trifling  import;  but 
when  true  love  is  translated  into  Low  Dutch,  it  is  in  this  way 
that  it  eloquently  expresses  itself.  They  were  not  lost  upon  the 
Webber  family.  The  winning  youngster  found  marvellous  favor 
in  the  eyes  of  the  mother ;  the  tortoise-shell  cat,  albeit  the  most 
staid  and  demure  of  her  kind,  gaive  indubitable  signs  of  approba 
tion  of  his  visits,  the  teakettle  seemed  to  sing  out  a  cheering  note 
of  welcome  at  his  approach, (and  if  the  sly  glances  of  the  daugh 
ter  might  be  rightly  read,  as  she  sat  bridling  and  dimpling,  and 
sewing  by  her  mother's  side,  she  was  not  a  whit  behind  Dame 
Webber,  or  grimalkin,  or  the  teakettle,  in  good  will. 

Wolfert  alone  saw  nothing  of  what  was  going  on.  Profoundly 
wrapt  up  in  meditation  on  the  growth  of  the  city  and  his  cab 
bages,  he  sat  looking  in  the  fire,  and  puffing  his  pipe  in  silence. 
One  night,  however,  as  the  gentle  Amy,  according  to  custom, 
lighted  her  lover  to  the  outer  door,  and  he,  according  to  custom, 
took  his  parting  salute,  the  smack  resounded  so  vigorously  through 
the  long,  silent  entry,  as  to  startle  even  the  dull  ear  of  Wolfert. 
He  was  slowly  roused  to  a  new  source  of  anxiety.  It  had  never 
entered  into  his  head  that  this  mere  child,  who,  as  it  seemed,  but 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  399 


the  other  day  had  been  climbing  about  his  knees,  and  playing 
with  dolls  and  baby-houses,  could  all  at  once  be  thinking  of  lovers 
and  matrimony.  He  rubbed  his  eyes,  examined  into  the  fact, 
and  really  found  that  while  he  had  been  dreaming  of  other  mat 
ters,  she  had  actually  grown  to  be  a  woman,  and  what  was  worse, 
had  fallen  in  love.  Here  arose  new  cares  for  Wolfert.  He  was 
a  kind  father,  but  he  was  a  prudent  man.  The  young  man  was 
a  lively,  stirring  lad ;  but  then  he  had  neither  money  nor  land. 
Wolfert's  ideas  all  ran  in  one  channel ;  and  he  saw  no  alterna 
tive  in  case  of  a  marriage,  but  to  portion  off  the  young  couple 
with  a  corner  of  his  cabbage  garden,  the  whole  of  which  was 
barely  sufficient  for  the  support  of  his  family. 

Like  a  prudent  father,  therefore,  he  determined  to  nip  this 
passion  in  the  bud,  and  forbade  the  youngster  the  house  ;  though 
sorely  did  it  go  against  his  fatherly  heart,  and  many  a  silent  tear 
did  it  cause  in  the  bright  eye  of  his  daughter.  She  showed  her 
self,  however,  a  pattern  of  filial  piety  and  obedience.  She  never 
pouted  and  sulked  ;  she  never  flew  in  the  face  of  parental  autho 
rity  ;  she  never  flew  into  a  passion,  nor  fell  into  hysterics,  as  many 
romantic  novel-read  young  ladies  would  do.  Not  she,  indeed! 
She  was  none  such  heroical  -rebellious  trumpery,  I'll  warrant  ye. 
On  the  contrary,  she  acquiesced  like  an  obedient  daughter,  shut 
the  street  door  in  her  lover's  face,  and  if  ever  she  did  grant  him 
an  interview,  it  was  either  out  of  the  kitchen  window,  or  over  the 
garden  fence. 

Wolfert  was  deeply  cogitating  these  matters  in  his  mind,  and 
his  brow  wrinkled  with  unusual  care,  as  he  wended  his  way  one 
Saturday  afternoon  to  a  rural  inn,  about  two  miles  from  the  city. 
It  was  a  favorite  resort  of  the  Dutch  part  of  the  community, 
from  being  always  held  by  a  Dutch  line  of  landlords,  and  retain- 


400  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


ing  an  air  and  relish^f  the  good  old  times.  It  was  a  Dutch-built 
house,  that  had  probably  been  a  country-seat  of  some  opulent 
burgher  in  the  early  time  of  the  settlement.  It  stood  near  a 
point  of  land,  called  Corlear's  Hook,  which  stretches  out  into  the 
Sound,  and  against  which  the  tide,  at  its  flux  and  reflux,  sets  with 
extraordinary  rapidity.  The  venerable  and  somewhat  crazy 
mansion  was  distinguished  from  afar,  by  a  grove  of  elms  and 
sycamores  that  seemed  to  wave  a  hospitable  invitation,  while  a 
few  weeping-willows,  with  their  dank,  drooping  foliage,  resem 
bling  fallen  waters,  gave  an  idea  of  coolness,  that  rendered  it  an 
attractive  spot  during  the  heats  of  summer. 

Here,  therefore,  as  I  said,  resorted  many  of  the  old  inhabit 
ants  of  the  Manahattoes,  where,  while  some  played  at  shuffle-board 
and  quoits  and  nine-pins,  others  smoked  a  deliberate  pipe,  and 
talked  over  public  affairs. 

It  was  on  a  blustering  autumnal  afternoon  that  Wolfert  made 
his  visit  to  the  inn.  The  grove  of  elms  and  willows  was  strip 
ped  of  its  leaves,  which  whirled  in  rustling  eddies  about  the 
fields.  The  nine-pin  alley  was  deserted,  for  the  premature  chilli 
ness  of  the  day  had  driven  the  company  within  doors.  As  it 
was  Saturday  afternoon,  the  habitual  club  was  in  session,  com 
posed  principally  of  regular  Dutch  burghers,  though  mingled  oc 
casionally  with  persons  of  various  character  and  country,  as  is 
natural  in  a  place  of  such  motley  population. 

Beside  the  fireplace,  in  a  huge  leather-bottomed  arm-chair,  sat 
the  dictator  of  this  little  world,  the  venerable  Rem,  or  as  it  was 
pronounced,  Ramm  Rapelye.  He  was  a  man  of  Walloon  race, 
and  illustrious  for  the  antiquity  of  his  line  ;  his  great-grandmother 
having  been  the  first  white  child  born  in  the  province.  But  he 
was  still  more  illustrious  for  his  wealth  and  dignity :  he  had  long 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  401 


filled  the  noble  office  of  alderman,  and  was  a  man  to  whom  the 
governor  himself  took  off  his  hat.  He  had  maintained  possession 
of  the  leather-bottomed  chair  from  time  immemorial ;  and  had 
gradually  waxed  in  bulk  as  he  sat  in  his  seat  of  government, 
until  in  the  course  of  years  he  filled  its  whole  magnitude.  His 
Avord  was  decisive  with  his  subjects ;  for  he  Avas  so  rich  a  man, 
that  he  was  never  expected  to  support  any  opinion  by  argument. 
The  landlord  waited  on  him  with  peculiar  officiousness  ;  not  that 
he  paid  better  than  his  neighbors,  but  then  the  coin  of  a  rich  man 
seems  always  to  be  so  much  more  acceptable.  The  landlord  had 
ever  a  pleasant  word  and  a  joke,  to  insinuate  in  the  ear  of  the 
august  Ramm.  It  is  true,  Ramm  never  laughed,  and,  indeed, 
ever  maintained  a  mastiff-like  gravity,  and  even  surliness  of 
aspect ;  yet  he  now  and  then  re\varded  mine  host  with  a  token  of 
approbation  ;  Avhich  though  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  kind  of 
grunt,  still  delighted  the  landlord  more  than  a  broad  laugh  from 
a  poorer  man. 

"  This  will  be  a  rough  night  for  the  money-diggers,"  said 
mine  host,  as  a  gust  of  wind  howled  round  the  house,  and  rattled 
at  the  windows. 

"What!  are  they  at  their  works  again?"  said  an  English 
half-pay  captain,  with  one  eye,  who  Avas  a  very  frequent  attend 
ant  at  the  inn. 

"  Aye,  are  they,"  said  the  landlord,  "  and  Avell  may  they  be. 
They've  had  luck  of  late.  They  say  a  great  pot  of  money 
has  been  dug  up  in  the  fields,  just  behind  Stuyvesant's  orchard. 
Folks  think  it  must  have  been  buried  there  in  old  times,  by 
Peter  Stuyvesant,  the  Dutch  governor." 

"  Fudge !"  said  the  one-eyed  man  of  war,  as  he  added  a  small 
portion  of  water  to  a  bottom  of  brandy. 


402  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


"  Well,  you  may  believe  it,  or  not,  as  you  please,"  said  mine 
host,  somewhat  nettled  ;  "  but  every  body  knows  that  the  old  gov 
ernor  buried  a  great  deal  of  his  money  at  the  time  of  the  Dutch 
troubles,  when  the  English  red-coats  seized  on  the  province. 
They  say,  too,  the  old  gentleman  walks  ;  aye,  and  in  the.  very 
same  dress  that  he  wears  in  the  picture  that  hangs  up  in  the 
family  house." 

"  Fudge  !"  said  the  half-pay  officer. 

"  Fudge,  if  you  please ! — But  didn't  Corney  Van  Zandt  see 
him  at  midnight,  stalking  about  in  the  meadow  with  his  wooden 
leg,  and  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  that  flashed  like  fire  ?  And 
what  can  he  be  walking  for,  but  because  people  have  been  troub 
ling  the  place  where  he  buried  his  money  in  old  times  ?" 

Here  the  landlord  Avas  interrupted  by  several  guttural  sounds 
from  Ramm  Rapelye,  betokening  that  he  was  laboring  with  the 
unusual  production  of  an  idea.  As  he  was  too  great  a  man  to  be 
slighted  by  a  prudent  publican,  mine  host  respectfully  paused 
until  he  should  deliver  himself.  The  corpulent  frame  of  this 
mighty  burgher  now  gave  all  the  symptoms  of  a  volcanic  moun 
tain  on  the  point  of  an  eruption.  First,  there  was  a  certain  heav 
ing  of  the  abdomen,  not  unlike  an  earthquake ;  then  was  emitted 
a  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke  from  that  crater,  his  mouth ;  then  there 
was  a  kind  of  rattle  in  the  throat,  as  if  the  idea  were  working  its 
way  up  through  a  region  of  phlegm ;  then  there  were  several  dis 
jointed  members  of  a  sentence  thrown  out,  ending  in  a  cough ; 
at  length  his  voice  forced  its  way  in  the  slow,  but  absolute  tone 
of  a  man  who  feels  the  weight  of  his  purse,  if  not  of  his  ideas ; 
every  portion  of  his  speech  being  marked  by  a  testy  puff  of 
tobacco-smoke. 

"  Who  talks  of  old  Peter  Stuyvesant's  walking  ? — puff — Have 


WOLFERT  WEBBER.  403 


people  no  respect  for  persons? — puff — puff — Peter  Stuyvesant 
knew  better  what  to  do  with  his  money  than  to  bury  it — puff — 
I  know  the  Stuyvesant  family — puff — every  one  of  them — puff — 
not  a  more  respectable  family  in  the  province — puff — old  stand 
ards — puff — warm  householders — puff — none  of  your  upstarts — 
puff — puff — puff. — Don't  talk  to  me  of  Peter  Stuyvesant's  walk 
ing — puff — puff — puff — puff." 

Here  the  redoubtable  Ramm  contracted  his  brow,  clasped 
up  his  mouth,  till  it  wrinkled  at  each  corner,  and  redoubled  his 
smoking  with  such  vehemence,  that  the  cloudy  volumes  soon 
wreathed  round  his  head,  as  the  smoke  envelopes  the  awful  sum 
mit  of  Mount  Etna. 

A  general  silence  followed  the  sudden  rebuke  of  this  very 
rich  man.  The  subject,  however,  was  too  interesting  to  be 
readily  abandoned.  The  conversation  soon  broke  forth  again 
from  the  lips  of  Peechy  Prauw  Van  Hook,  the  chronicler  of  the* 
club,  one  of  those  prosing,  narrative  old  men  who  seem  to  be 
troubled  with  an  incontinence  of  words,  as  they  grow  old. 

Peechy  could,  at  any  time,  tell  as  many  stories  in  an  evening 
as  his  hearers  could  digest  in  a  month.  He  now  resumed  the 
conversation,  by  affirming  that,  to  his  knowledge,  money  had  at 
different  times  been  digged  up  in  various  parts  of  the  island. 
The  lucky  persons  who  had  discovered  them  had  always  dreamt 
of  them  three  times  beforehand,  and  what  was  worthy  of  remark, 
those  treasures  had  never  been  found  but  by  some  descendant  of 
the  good  old  Dutch  families,  which  clearly  proved  that  they  had 
been  buried  by  Dutchmen  in  the  olden  time. 

"  Fiddlestick  with  your  Dutchmen !"  cried  the  half-pay  offi 
cer.  "  The  Dutch  had  nothing  to  do  with  them.  They  were  all 
buried  by  Kidd  the  pirate,  and  his  crew." 


404  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


Here  a  key-note  was  touched  that  roused  the  whole  company. 
The  name  of  Captain  Kidd  was  like  a  talisman  in  those  times, 
and  was  associated  with  a  thousand  marvellous  stories. 

The  half-pay  officer  took  the  lead,  and  in  his  narrations 
fathered  upon  Kidd  all  the  plunderings  and  exploits  of  Morgan, 
Blackboard,  and  the  whole  list  of  bloody  buccaneers. 

The  officer  was  a  man  of  great  weight  among  the  peaceable 
members  of  the  club,  by  reason  of  his  warlike  character  and  gun 
powder  tales.  All  his  golden  stories  of  Kidd,  however,  and  of 
the  booty  he  had  buried,  were  obstinately  rivalled  by  the  tales  of 
Peechy  Prauw,  who,  rather  than  suffer  his  Dutch  progenitors  to 
be  eclipsed  by  a  foreign  freeboter,  enriched  every  field  and  shore 
in  the  neighborhood  with  the  hidden  wealth  of  Peter  Stuyvesant 
and  his  contemporaries. 

Not  a  word  of  this  conversation  was  lost  upon  Wolfert  Web 
ber.  He  returned  pensively  home,  full  of  magnificent  ideas.  The 
soil  of  his  native  island  seemed  to  be  turned  into  gold  dust ;  and 
every  field  to  teem  with  treasure.  His  head  almost  reeled  at  the 
thought  how  often  he  must  have  heedlessly  rambled  over  places 
where  countless  sums  lay,  scarcely  covered  by  the  turf  beneath 
his  feet.  His  mind  was  in  an  uproar  with  this  whirl  of  new  ideas. 
As  he  came  in  sight  of  the  venerable  mansion  of  his  forefathers, 
and  the  little  realm  where  the  Webbers  had  so  long,  and  so  con 
tentedly  flourished,  his  gorge  rose  at  the  narrowness  of  his  destiny. 

"  Unlucky  Wolfert  !*'  exclaimed  he  ;  "  others  can  go  to  bed 
and  dream  themselves  into  whole  mines  of  wealth  ;  they  have 
but  to  seize  a  spade  in  the  morning,  and  turn  up  doubloons  like 
potatoes ;  but  thou  must  dream  of  hardships,  and  rise  to  poverty 
— must  dig  thy  field  from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  and  yet  raise 
nothing  but  cabbages !" 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  405 

Wolfert  Webber  went  to  bed  with  a  heavy  heart ;  and  it  was 
long  before  the  golden  visions  that  disturbed  his  brain  permitted 
him  to  sink  into  repose.  The  same  visions,  however,  extended 
into  his  sleeping  thoughts,  and  assumed  a  more  definite  form.  He 
dreamt  that  he  had  discovered  an  immense  treasure  in  the  centre 
of  his  garden.  At  every  stroke  of  the  spade  he  laid  bare  a 
golden  ingot ;  diamond  crosses  sparkled  out  of  the  dust ;  bags  of 
money  turned  up  their  bellies,  corpulent  with  pieces-of-eight,  or 
venerable  doubloons ;  and  chests,  wedged  close  with  moidores, 
ducats,  and  pistareens,  yawned  before  his  ravished  eyes,  and 
vomited  forth  their  glittering  contents.  \ 

Wolfert  awoke  a  poorer  man  than  ever.  He  had  no  heart  ^ 
to  go  about  his  daily  concerns,  which  appeared  so  paltry  and 
profitless  ;  but  sat  all  day  long  in  the  chimney-corner,  picturing 
to  himself  ingots  and  heaps  of  gold  in  the  fire.  The  next  night 
his  dream  was  repeated.  He  was  again  in  his  garden,  digging,- 
and  laying  open  stores  of  hidden  wealth.  There  was  something 
very  singular  in  this  repetition.  He  passed  another  day  of  reve 
rie,  and  though  it  was  cleaning-day,  and  the  house,  as  usual  in 
Dutch  households,  completely  topsy-turvy,  yet  he  sat  unmoved 
amidst  the  general  uproar. 

The  third  night  he  went  to  bed  with  a  palpitating  heart.  He 
put  on  his  red  night-cap  wrong  side  outwards,  for  good  luck.  It 
was  deep  midnight  before  his  anxious  mind  could  settle  itself  into 
sleep.  Again  the  golden  dream  was  repeated,  and  again  he  saw 
his  garden  teeming  with  ingots  and  money  bags. 

Wolfert  rose  the  next  morning  in  complete  bewilderment. 
A  dream  three  times  repeated  was  never  known  to  lie ;  and  if 
so,  his  fortune  was  made. 

In  his  agitation  he  put  on  his  waistcoat  with  the  hind  part 


406  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


before,  and  this  was  a  corroboration  of  good  luck.  He  no  longer 
doubted  that  a  huge  store  of  money  lay  buried  somewhere  in  his 
cabbage  field,  coyly  waiting  to  be  sought  for ;  and  he  repined  at 
having  so  long  been  scratching  about  the  surface  of  the  soil 
instead  of  digging  to  the  centre. 

He  took  his  seat  at  the  breakfast  table  full  of  these  specula 
tions  ;  asked  his  daughter  to  put  a  lump  of  gold  into  his  tea,  and 
on  handing  his  wife  a  plate  of  slap-jacks,  begged  her  to  help  her 
self  to  a  doubloon. 

His  grand  care  now  was  how  to  secure  this  immense  treasure 
without  its  being  known.  Instead  of  working  regularly  in  his 
grounds  in  the  daytime,  he  now  stole  from  his  bed  at  night,  and 
with  spade  and  pickaxe,  went  to  work  to  rip  up  and  dig  about  his 
paternal  acres,  from  one  end  to  the  other.  In  a  little  time  the 
whole  garden,  which  had  presented  such  a  goodly  and  regular 
appearance,  with  its  phalanx  of  cabbages,  like  a  vegetable  army 
in  battle  array,  was  reduced  to  a  scene  of  devastation  ;  while  the 
relentless  Wolfert,  with  night-cap  on  head,  and  lantern  and  spade 
in  hand,  stalked  through  the  slaughtered  ranks,  the  destroying 
angel  of  his  own  vegetable  world. 

Every  morning  bore  testimony  to  the  ravages  of  the  pre 
ceding  night  in  cabbages  of  all  ages  and  conditions,  from  the  ten 
der  sprout  to  the  full-grown  head,  piteously  rooted  from  their 
quiet  beds  like  worthless  weeds,  and  left  to  wither  in  the  sunshine. 
In  vain  Wolfert's  wife  remonstrated  ;  in  vain  his  darling  daugh 
ter  wept  over  the  destruction  of  some  favorite  marigold.  "  Thou 
shalt  have  gold  of  another  guess  sort,"  he  would  cry,  chucking 
her  under  the  chin  ;  "  thou  shalt  have  a  string  of  crooked  ducats 
for  thy  wedding  necklace,  my  child."  His  family  began  really 
to  fear  that  the  poor  man's  wits  were  diseased.  He  muttered  in 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  407 


his  sleep  at  night  about  mines  of  wealth,  about  pearls  and  dia 
monds  and  bars  of  gold.  In  the  daytime  he  was  moody  and  ab 
stracted,  and  walked  about  as  if  in  a  trance.  Dame  Webber 
held  frequent  councils  with  all  the  old  women  of  the  neighbor 
hood  ;  scarce  an  hour  in  the  day  but  a  knot  of  them  might  be 
seen  wagging  their  white  caps  together  round  her  door,  while  the 
poor  woman  made  some  piteous  recital.  The  daughter  too  was 
fain  to  seek  for  more  frequent  consolation  from  the  stolen  inter 
views  of  her  favored  swain  Dirk  "Waldron.  The  delectable  little 
Dutch  songs  with  which  she  used  to  dulcify  the  house  grew  less 
and  less  frequent,  and  she  would  forget  her  sewing  and  look  wist 
fully  in  her  father's  face,  as  he  sat  pondering  by  the  fireside. 
Wolfert  caught  her  eye  one  day  fixed  on  him  thus  anxiously,  and 
for  a  moment  was  roused  from  his  golden  reveries. — "  Cheer  up, 
my  girl,"  said  he,  exultingly,  "  why  dost  thou  droop  ? — thou  shalt 
hold  up  thy  head  one  day  with  the  Brinckerhoffs,  and  the 
Schermerhorns,  the  Van  Homes,  and  the  Van  Dams. — By  Saint 
Nicholas,  but  the  patroon  himself  shall  be  glad  to  get  thee  for  his 
son !" 

Amy  shook  her  head  at  this  vainglorious  boast,  and  was 
more  than  ever  in  doubt  of  the  soundness  of  the  good  man's  intel 
lect. 

In  the  meantime  Wolfert  went  on  digging  and  digging ;  but 
the  field  was  extensive,  and  as  his  dream  had  indicated  no  precise 
spot,  he  had  to  dig  at  random.  The  winter  set  in  before  one- 
tenth  of  the  scene  of  promise  had  been  explored. 

The  ground  became  frozen  hard,  and  the  nights  too  cold  for 
the  labors  of  the  spade. 

No  sooner,  however,  did  the  returning  warmth  of  spring 
loosen  the  soil,  and  the  small  frogs  begin  to  pipe  in  the  meadows, 


408  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


but  Wolfert  resumed  his  labors  with  renovated  zeal.  Still,  how 
ever,  the  hours  of  industry  were  reversed. 

Instead  of  working  cheerily  all  day,  planting  and  setting  out 
his  vegetables,  he  remained  thoughtfully  idle,  until  the  shades  of 
night  summoned  him  to  his  secret  labors.  In  this  way  he  con 
tinued  to  dig  from  night  to  night,  and  week  to  week,  and  month 
to  month,  but  not  a  stiver  did  he  find.  On  the  contrary,  the  more 
he  digged,  the  poorer  he  grew.  The  rich  soil  of  his  garden  was 
digged  away,  and  the  sand  and  gravel  from  beneath  were  thrown 
to  the  surface,  until  the  whole  field  presented  an  aspect  of  sandy 
barrenness. 

In  the  meantime  the  seasons  gradually  rolled  on.  The  little 
frogs  which  had  piped  in  the  meadows  in  early  spring,  croaked  as 
bull-frogs  during  the  summer  heats,  and  then  sank  into  silence. 
The  peach-tree  budded,  blossomed,  and  bore  its  fruit.  The  swal 
lows  and  martins  came,  twittered  about  the  roof,  built  their  nests, 
reared  their  young,  held  their  congress  along  the  eaves,  and  then 
winged  their  flight  in  search  of  another  spring.  The  caterpillar 
spun  its  winding-sheet,  dangled  in  it  from  the  great  button-wood 
tree  before  the  house ;  turned  into  a  moth,  fluttered  with  the  last 
sunshine  of  summer,  and  disappeared ;  and  finally  the  leaves  of 
the  button-wood  tree  turned  yellow,  then  brown,  then  rustled  one 
by  one  to  the  ground,  and  whirling  about  in  little  eddies  of  wind 
and  dust,  whispered  that  winter  was  at  hand. 

Wolfert  gradually  woke  from  his  dream  of  wealth  as  the  year 
declined.  He  had  reared  no  crop  for  the  supply  of  his  household 
during  the  sterility  of  winter.  The  season  was  long  and  severe, 
and  for  the  first  time  the  family  was  really  straitened  in  its  com 
forts.  By  degrees  a  revulsion  of  thought  took  place  in  Wol- 
fert's  mind,  common  to  those  whose  golden  dreams  have  been  dis- 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  409 


turbed  by  pinching  realities.  The  idea  gradually  stole  upon  him 
that  he  should  come  to  want.  He  already  considered  himself 
one  of  the  most  unfortunate  men  in  the  province,  having  lost  such 
an  incalculable  amount  of  undiscovered  treasure,  and  now,  when 
thousands  of  pounds  had  eluded  his  search,  to  be  perplexed  for 
shillings  and  pence  was  cruel  in  the  extreme. 

Haggard  care  gathered  about  his  brow ;  he  went  about  with  a 
money-seeking  air,  his  eyes  bent  downwards  into  the  dust,  and 
carrying  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  as  men  are  apt  to  do  when  they 
have  nothing  else  to  put  into  them.  He  could  not  even  pass  the 
city  almshouse  without  giving  it  a  rueful  glance,  as  if  destined  to 
be  his  future  abode. 

The  strangeness  of  his  conduct  and  of  his  looks  occasioned 
much  speculation  and  remark.  For  a  long  time  he  was  suspected 
of  being  crazy,  and  then  every  body  pitied  him ;  at  length  it 
began  to  be  suspected  that  he  was  poor,  and  then  every  body 
avoided  him. 

The  rich  old  burghers  of  his  acquaintance  met  him  outside 
of  the  door  when  he  called,  entertained  him  hospitably  on  the 
threshold,  pressed  him  warmly  by  the  hand  at  parting,  shook 
their  heads  as  he  walked  away,  with  the  kind-hearted  expression 
of  "poor  "VYolfert,"  and  turned  a  corner  nimbly,  if  by  chance 
they  saw  him  approaching  as  they  walked  the  streets.  Even  the 
barber  and  cobbler  of  the  neighborhood,  and  a  tattered  tailor 
in  an  alley  hard  by,  three  of  the  poorest  and  merriest  rogues  in 
the  world,  eyed  him  with  that  abundant  sympathy  which  usually 
attends  a  lack  of  means ;  and  there  is  not  a  doubt  but  their  pock 
ets  would  have  been  at  his  command,  only  that  they  happened  to 
be  empty. 

Thus  every  body  deserted  the  Webber  mansion,  as  if  poverty 
18 


410  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


were  contagious,  like  the  plague ;  every  body  but  honest  Dirk 
Waldron,  who  still  kept  up  his  stolen  visits  to  the  daughter,  and 
indeed  seemed  to  wax  more  affectionate  as  the  fortunes  of  his 
mistress  were  in  the  wane. 

Many  months  had  elapsed  since  Wolfert  had  frequented  his 
old  resort,  the  rural  inn.  He  was  taking  a  long  lonely  walk  one 
Saturday  afternoon,  musing  over  his  wants  and  disappointments, 
when  his  feet  took  instinctively  their  wonted  direction,  and  on 
awaking  out  of  a  reverie,  he  found  himself  before  the  door  of  the 
inn.  For  some  moments  he  hesitated  whether  to  enter,  but  his 
heart  yearned  for  companionship;  and  where  can  a  ruined 
man  find  better  companionship  than  at  a  tavern,  where  there  is 
neither  sober  example  nor  sober  advice  to  put  him  out  of  counte 
nance  ? 

Wolfert  found  several  of  the  old  frequenters  of  the  inn  at 
their  usual  posts,  and  seated  in  their  usual  places ;  but  one  was 
missing,  the  great  Ramrn  Rapelye,  who  for  many  years  had  filled 
the  leather-bottomed  chair  of  state.  His  place  was  supplied  by 
a  stranger,  who  seemed,  however,  completely  at  home  in  the  chair 
and  the  tavern.  He  was  rather  under  size,  but  deep  chested, 
square,  and  muscular.  His  broad  shoulders,  double  joints,  and 
bow  knees,  gave  tokens  of  prodigious  strength.  His  face  was 
dark  and  weather-beaten ;  a  deep  scar,  as  if  from  the  slash  of  a 
cutlass,  had  almost  divided  his  nose,  and  made  a  gash  in  his  upper 
lip,  through  which  his  teeth  shone  like  a  bull-dog's.  A  mop  of 
iron-gray  hair  gave  a  grisly  finish  to  his  hard-favored  visage. 
His  dress  was  of  an  amphibious  character.  He  wore  an  old  hat 
edged  with  tarnished  lace,  and  cocked  in  martial  style,  on  one  side 
of  his  head ;  a  rusty  blue  military  coat  with  brass  buttons,  and  a 
wide  pair  of  short  petticoat  trowsers,  or  rather  breeches,  for  they 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  411 


were  gathered  up  at  the  knees.  He  ordered  every  body  about 
him  with  an  authoritative  air ;  talked  in  a  brattling  voice,  that 

sounded  like  the   crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot ;  d d  the 

landlord  and  servants  with  perfect  impunity,  and  was  waited  upon 
with  greater  obsequiousness  than  had  ever  been  shown  to  the 
mighty  Ramm  himself. 

Wolfert's  curiosity  was  awakened  to  know  who  and  what  was 
this  stranger,  who  had  thus  usurped  absolute  sway  in  this  ancient 
domain.  Peechy  Prauw  took  him  aside,  into  a  remote  corner 
of  the  hall,  and  there,  in  an  under  voice,  and  with  great  cau 
tion,  imparted  to  him  all  that  he  knew  on  the  subject.  The 
inn  had  been  aroused  several  months  before,  on  a  dark  stormy 
night,  by  repeated  long  shouts,  that  seemed  like  the  howlings  of 
a  wolf.  They  came  from  the  water-side  ;  and  at  length  were 
distinguished  to  be  hailing  the  house  in  the  seafaring  manner, 
"  House-a-hoy  !"  The  landlord  turned  out  with  his  head  waiter, 
tapster,  hostler,  and  errand-boy — that  is  to  say,  with  his  old  negro 
Cuff.  On  approaching  the  place  whence  the  voice  proceeded, 
they  found  this  amphibious-looking  personage  at  the  water's  edge, 
quite  alone,  and  seated  on  a  great  oaken  sea-chest.  How  he 
came  there,  whether  he  had  been  set  on  shore  from  some  boat,  or 
had  floated  to  land  on  his  chest,  nobody  could  tell,  for  he  did  not 
seem  disposed  to  answer  questions  ;  and  there  was  something  in 
his  looks  and  manners  that  put  a  stop  to  all  questioning.  Suffice 
it  to  say,  he  took  possession  of  a  corner  room  of  the  inn,  to  which 
his  chest  was  removed  with  great  difficulty.  Here  he  had  re 
mained  ever  since,  keeping  about  the  inn  and  its  vicinity.  Some 
times,  it  is  true,  he  disappeared  for  one,  two,  or  three  days  at  a 
time,  going  and  returning  without  giving  any  notice  or  account  of 


412  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


his  movements.  He  always  appeared  to  have  plenty  of  money, 
though  often  of  a  very  strange  outlandish  coinage ;  and  he  regu 
larly  paid  his  bill  every  evening  before  turning  in. 

He  had  fitted  up  his  room  to  his  own  fancy,  having  slung  a 
hammock  from  the  ceiling  instead  of  a  bed,  and  decorated  the 
walls  with  rusty  pistols  and  cutlasses  of  foreign  workmanship. 
A  great  part  of  his  time  was  passed  in  this  room,  seated  by  the 
window,  which  commanded  a  wide  view  of  the  Sound,  a  short 
old-fashioned  pipe  in  his  mouth,  a  glass  of  rum  toddy  at  his 
elbow,  and  a  pocket  telescope  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  recon 
noitred  every  boat  that  moved  upon  the  water.  Large  square- 
rigged  vessels  seemed  to  excite  but  little  attention  ;  but  the  mo 
ment  he  descried  any  thing  with  a  shoulder-of-mutton  sail,  or  that 
a  barge,  or  yawl,  or  jolly-boat  hove  in  sight,  up  went  the  telescope, 
and  he  examined  it  with  the  most  scrupulous  attention. 

All  this  might  have  passed  without  much  notice,  for  in  those 
times  the  province  was  so  much  the  resort  of  adventurers  of  all 
characters  and  climes,  that  any  oddity  in  dress  or  behavior 
attracted  but  small  attention.  In  a  little  while,  however,  this 
strange  sea-monster,  thus  strangely  cast  upon  dry  land,  began  to 
encroach  upon  the  long-established  customs  and  customers  of  the 
place,  and  to  interfere  in  a  dictatorial  manner  in  the  affairs  of  the 
nine-pin  alley  and  the  bar-room,  until  in  the  end  he  usurped  an 
absolute  command  over  the  whole  inn.  It  was  all  in  vain  to  attempt 
to  withstand  his  authority.  He  was  not  exactly  quarrelsome,  but 
boisterous  and  peremptory,  like  one  accustomed  to  tyrannize  on  a 
quarter-deck  ;  and  there  was  a  dare-devil  air  about  every  thing 
he  said  and  did,  that  inspired  a  wariness  in  all  bystanders.  Even 
the  half-pay  officer,  so  long  the  hero  of  the  club,  was  soon  silenced 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  413 


by  him ;  and  the  quiet  burghers  stared  with  wonder  at  seeing 
their  inflammable  man  of  war  so  readily  and  quietly  ex 
tinguished. 

And  then  the  tales  that  he  would  tell  were  enough  to  make 
a  peaceable  man's  hair  stand  on  end.  There  was  not  a  sea-fight, 
nor  marauding  nor  freebooting  adventure  that  had  happened 
within  the  last  twenty  years,  but  he  seemed  perfectly  versed  in  it. 
He  delighted  to  talk  of  the  exploits  of  the  buccaneers  in  the 
West  Indies  and  on  the  Spanish  Main.  How  his  eyes  would 
glisten  as  he  described  the  waylaying  of  treasure  ships,  the  des 
perate  fights,  yard-arm  and  yard-arm — broadside  and  broadside 
— the  boarding  and  capturing  of  huge  Spanish  galleons  !  With 
what  chuckling  relish  would  he  describe  the  descent  upon  some 
rich  Spanish  colony ;  the  rifling  of  a  church  ;  the  sacking  of  a 
convent !  You  would  have  thought  you  heard  some  gormandizer 
dilating  upon  the  roasting  of  a  savory  goose  at  Michaelmas  as  he 
described  the  roasting  of  some  Spanish  Don  to  make  him  dis 
cover  his  treasure — a  detail  given  with  a  minuteness  that  made 
every  rich  old  burgher  present  turn  uncomfortably  in  his  chair. 
All  this  would  be  told  with  infinite  glee,  as  if  he  considered  it  an 
excellent  joke  ;  and  then  he  would  give  such  a  tyrannical  leer  in 
the  face  of  his  next  neighbor,  that  the  poor  man  would  be  fain  to 
laugh  out  of  sheer  faint-heartedness.  If  any  one,  however,  pre 
tended  to  contradict  him  in  any  of  his  stories  he  was  on  fire  in  an 
instant.  His  very  cocked  hat  assumed  a  momentary  fierceness, 
and  seemed  to  resent  the  contradiction.  "  How  the  devil  should 
you  know  as  well  as  I  ? — I  tell  you  it  was  as  I  say ;"  and  he 
would  at  the  same  time  let  slip  a  broadside  of  thundering  oaths 
and  tremendous  sea-phrases,  such  as  had  never  been  heard  before 
within  these  peaceful  walls. 


414  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


Indeed,  the  worthy  burghers  began  to  surmise  that  he  knew 
more  of  those  stories  than  mere  hearsay.  Day  after  day  their 
conjectures  concerning  him  grew  more  and  more  wild  and  fearful. 
The  strangeness  of  his  arrival,  the  strangeness  of  his  manners,  the 
mystery  that  surrounded  him,  all  made  him  something  incompre 
hensible  in  their  eyes.  He  was  a  kind  of  monster  of  the  deep  to 
them — he  was  a  merman — he  was  a  behemoth — he  was  a  levia 
than — in  short,  they  knew  not  what  he  was. 

The  domineering  spirit  of  this  boisterous  sea-urchin  at  length 
grew  quite  intolerable.  He  was  no  respecter  of  persons ;  he 
contradicted  the  richest  burghers  without  hesitation ;  he  took 
possession  of  the  sacred  elbow-chair,  which,  time  out  of  mind,  had 
been  the  seat  of  sovereignty  of  the  illustrious  Ramm  Rapelye. 
Nay,  he  even  went  so  far  in  one  of  his  rough  jocular  moods,  as  to 
slap  that  mighty  burgher  on  the  back,  drink  his  toddy,  and  wink  in 
his  face,  a  thing  scarcely  to  be  believed.  From  this  time  Ramm 
Rapelye  appeared  no  more  at  the  inn ;  his  example  was  followed 
by  several  of  the  most  eminent  customers,  who  were  too  rich  to 
tolerate  being  bullied  out  of  their  opinions,  or  being  obliged  to 
laugh  at  another  man's  jokes.  The  landlord  was  almost  in  de 
spair  ;  but  he  knew  not  how  to  get  rid  of  this  sea-monster  and 
his  sea-chest,  who  seemed  both  to  have  grown  like  fixtures,  or 
excrescences,  on  his  establishment. 

Such  was  the  account  whispered  cautiously  in  Wolfert's  ear, 
by  the  narrator,  Peechy  Prauw,  as  he  held  him  by  the  button  in 
a  corner  of  the  hall,  casting  a  wary  glance  now  and  then  towards 
the  door  of  the  bar-room,  lest  he  should  be  overheard  by  the  ter 
rible  hero  of  his  tale. 

Wolfert  took  his  seat  in  a  remote  part  of  the  room  in  silence ; 
impressed  with  profound  awe  of  this  unknown,  so  versed  in  free- 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  415 

booting  history.  It  was  to  him  a  wonderful  instance  of  the  revo 
lutions  of  mighty  empires,  to  find  the  venerable  Ramm  Rapelye 
thus  ousted  from  the  throne,  and  a  rugged  tarpawling  dictating 
from  his  elbow-chair,  hectoring  the  patriarchs,  and  filling  this 
tranquil  little  realm  with  brawl  and  bravado. 

The  stranger  was  on  this  evening  in  a  more  than  usually 
communicative  mood,  and  was  narrating  a  number  of  astounding 
stories  of  plunderings  and  burnings  on  the  high  seas.  He  dwelt 
upon  them  with  peculiar  relish,  heightening  the  frightful  particu 
lars  in  proportion  to  their  effect  on  his  peaceful  auditors.  He 
gave  a  swaggering  detail  of  the  capture  of  a  Spanish  merchant 
man.  She  was  lying  becalmed  during  a  long  summer's  day,  just 
off  from  an  island  which  was  one  of  the  lurking-places  of  the 
pirates.  They  had  reconnoitred  her  with  their  spy-glasses  from 
the  shore,  and  ascertained  her  character  and  force.  At  night  a 
picked  crew  of  daring  fellows  set  off  for  her  in  a  whaleboat. 
They  approached  with  muffled  oars,  as  she  lay  rocking  idly  with 
the  undulations  of  the  sea,  and  her  sails  flapping  against  the 
masts.  They  were  close  under  her  stern  before  the  guard  on 
deck  was  aware  of  their  approach.  The  alarm  was  given ;  the 
pirates  threw  hand-grenades  on  deck,  and  sprang  up  the  main 
chains  sword  in  hand. 

The  crew  flew  to  arms,  but  in  great  confusion ;  some  were 
shot  down,  others  took  refuge  in  the  tops ;  others  were  driven 
overboard  and  drowned,  while  others  fought  hand  to  hand  from 
the  main-deck  to  the  quarter-deck,  disputing  gallantly  every  inch 
of  ground.  There  were  three  Spanish  gentlemen  on  board  with 
their  ladies,  who  made  the  most  desperate  resistance.  They 
defended  the  companion-way,  cut  down  several  of  their  assailants, 
and  fought  like  very  devils,  for  they  were  maddened  by  the  shrieks 


416  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


of  the  ladies  from  the  cabin.  One  of  the  Dons  was  old,  and  soon 
dispatched.  The  other  two  kept  their  ground  vigorously,  even 
though  the  captain  of  the  pirates  was  among  their  assailants. 
Just  then  there  was  a  shout  of  victory  from  the  main-deck. 
"  The  ship  is  ours  !"  cried  the  pirates. 

One  of  the  Dons  immediately  dropped  his  sword  and  surren 
dered  ;  the  other,  who  was  a  hot-headed  youngster,  and  just  mar 
ried,  gave  the  captain  a  slash  in  the  face  that  laid  all  open.  The 
captain  just  made  out  to  articulate  the  words  "  no  quarter." 

"  And  what  did  they  do  with  their  -prisoners  ?"  said  Peechy 
Prauw,  eagerly. 

"  Threw  them  all  overboard !"  was  the  answer.  A  dead 
pause  followed  the  reply.  Peechy  Prauw  sunk  quietly  back,  like 
a  man  who  had  unwarily  stolen  upon  the  lair  of  a  sleeping  lion. 
The  honest  burghers  cast  fearful  glances  at  the  deep  scar  slashed 
across  the  visage  of  the  stranger,  and  moved  their  chairs  a  little 
farther  off.  The  seaman,  however,  smoked  on  without  moving  a 
muscle,  as  though  he  either  did  not  perceive  or  did  not  regard 
the  unfavorable  effect  he  had  produced  upon  his  hearers. 

The  half-pay  officer  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence  ;  for  he 
was  continually  tempted  to  make  ineffectual  head  against  this 
tyrant  of  the  seas,  and  to  regain  his  lost  consequence  in  the  eyes 
of  his  ancient  companions.  He  now  tried  to  match  the  gunpow 
der  tales  of  the  stranger  by  others  equally  tremendous.  Kidd, 
as  usual,  was  his  hero,  concerning  whom  he  seemed  to  have  picked 
up  many  of  the  floating  traditions  of  the  province.  The  seaman 
had  always  evinced  a  settled  pique  against  the  one-eyed  warrior. 
On  this  occasion  he  listened  with  peculiar  impatience.  He  sat 
with  one  arm  akimbo,  the  other  elbow  on  a  table,  the  hand  hold 
ing  on  to  the  small  pipe  he  was  pettishly  puffing  ;  his  legs  crossed  ; 


WOLFERT  WEBBER.  417 


drumming  with  one  foot  on  the  ground,  and  casting  every  now 
and  then  the  side-glance  of  a  basilisk  at  the  prosing  captain.  At 
length  the  latter  spoke  of  Kidd's  having  ascended  the  Hudson 
with  some  of  his  crew,  to  land  his  plunder  in  secrecy. 

"  Kidd  up  the  Hudson !"  burst  forth  the  seaman,  with  a  tre 
mendous  oath — "  Kidd  never  was  up  the  Hudson  !" 

"  I  tell  you  he  was,"  said  the  other.  "  Aye,  and  they  say  he 
buried  a  quantity  of  treasure  on  the  little  flat  that  runs  out  into 
the  river,  called  the  Devil's  Dans  Kammer." 

"  The  Devil's  Dans  Kammer  in  your  teeth !"  cried  the  sea 
man.  "I  tell  you  Kidd  never  was  up  the  Hudson.  What  a 
plague  do  you  know  of  Kidd  and  his  haunts  ?" 

"  What  do  I  know  ?"  echoed  the  half-pay  officer.  "  Why,  I 
was  in  London  at  the  time  of  his  trial ;  aye,  and  I  had  the  plea 
sure  of  seeing  him  hanged  at  Execution  Dock." 

"  Then,  sir,  let  me  tell  you  that  you  saw  as  pretty  a  fellow 
hanged  as  ever  trod  shoe-leather.  Aye  !"  putting  his  face  nearer 
to  that  of  the  officer,  "  and  there  was  many  a  land-lubber  looked 
on  that  might  much  better  have  swung  in  his  stead." 

The  half-pay  officer  was  silenced ;  but  the  indignation  thus 
pent  up  in  his  bosom  glowed  with  intense  vehemence  in  his  single 
eye,  which  kindled  like  a  coal. 

Peechy  Prauw,  who  never  could  remain  silent,  observed  that 
the  gentleman  certainly  was  in  the  right.  Kidd  never  did  bury 
money  up  the  Hudson,  nor  indeed  in  any  of  those  parts,  though 
many  affirmed  such  to  be  the  fact.  It  was  Bradish  and  others 
of  the  buccaneers  who  had  buried  money  ;  some  said  in  Turtle 
Bay,  others  on  Long  Island,  others  in  the  neighborhood  of  Hell- 
gate.  Indeed,  added  he,  I  recollect  an  adventure  of  Sam,  the 
negro  fisherman,  many  years  ago,  which  some  think  had  some- 

18* 


418  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


thing  to  do  with  the  buccaneers.  As  we  are  all  friends  here,  and 
as  it  will  go  no  farther,  I'll  tell  it  to  you. 

"  Upon  a  dark  night  many  years  ago,  as  Black  Sam  was  re 
turning  from  fishing  in  Hell-gate " 

Here  the  story  was  nipped  in  the  bud  by  a  sudden  movement 
from  the  unknown,  who  laying  his  iron  fist  on  the  table,  knuckles 
downward,  with  a  quiet  force  that  indented  the  very  boards,  and 
looking  grimly  over  his  shoulder,  with  the  grin  of  an  angry  bear 
— "  Heark'ee,  neighbor,"  said  he,  with  significant  nodding  of  the 
head,  "  you'd  better  let  the  buccaneers  and  their  money  alone — 
they're  not  for  old  men  and  old  women  to  meddle  with.  They 
fought  hard  for  their  money  ;  they  gave  body  and  soul  for  it ;  and 
wherever  it  lies  buried,  depend  upon  it  he  must  have  a  tug  with 
the  devil  who  gets  it !" 

This  sudden  explosion  was  succeeded  by  a  blank  silence 
throughout  the  room.  Peechy  Prauw  shrunk  within  himself,  and 
even  the  one-eyed  officer  turned  pale.  Wolfert,  who  from  a  dark 
corner  of  the  room  had  listened  with  intense  eagerness  to  all  this 
talk  about  buried  treasure,  looked  with  mingled  awe  and  rever 
ence  at  this  bold  buccaneer,  for  such  he  really  suspected  him  to 
be.  There  was  a  chinking  of  gold  and  a  sparkling  of  jewels  in 
all  his  stories  about  the  Spanish  Main  that  gave  a  value  to  every 
period  ;  and  Wolfert  would  have  given  any  thing  for  the  rum 
maging  of  the  ponderous  sea-chest,  which  his  imagination  cram 
med  full  of  golden  chalices,  crucifixes,  and  jolly  round  bags  of 
doubloons. 

The  dead  stillness  that  had  fallen  upon  the  company  was  at 
length  interrupted  by  the  stranger,  who  pulled  out  a  prodigious 
watch  of  curious  and  ancient  workmanship,  and  which  in  Wol- 
fert's  eyes  had  a  decidedly  Spanish  look.  On  touching  a  spring 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  419 


it  struck  ten  o'clock ;  upon  which  the  sailor  called  for  his  reckon 
ing,  and  having  paid  it  out  of  a  handful  of  outlandish  coin,  he 
drank  off  the  remainder  of  his  beverage,  and  without  taking  leave 
of  any  one,  rolled  out  of  the  room,  muttering  to  himself,  as  he 
stamped  up  stairs  to  his  chamber. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  company  could  recover  from  the 
silence  into  which  they  had  been  thrown.  The  very  footsteps  of 
the  stranger,  which  were  heard  now  and  then  as  he  traversed  his 
chamber,  inspired  awe. 

Still  the  conversation  in  which  they  had  been  engaged  was 
too  interesting  not  to  be  resumed.  A  heavy  thundergust  had 
gathered  up  unnoticed  while  they  were  lost  in  talk,  and  the  tor 
rents  of  rain  that  fell  forbade  all  thoughts  of  setting  off  for  home 
until  the  storm  should  subside.  They  drew  nearer  together, 
therefore,  and  entreated  the  worthy  Peechy  Prauw  to  continue 
the  tale  which  had  been  so  discourteously  interrupted.  He  readily 
complied,  whispering,  however,  in  a  tone  scarcely  above  his 
breath,  and  drowned  occasionally  by  the  rolling  of  the  thunder ; 
and  he  would  pause  every  now  and  then,  and  listen  with  evident 
awe,  as  he  heard  the  heavy  footsteps  of  the  stranger  pacing 
overhead. 

The  following  is  the  purport  of  his  story. 


THE 


ADVENTURE  OF  THE  BLACK  FISHERMAN. 

EVERY  body  knows  Black  Sam,  the  old  negro  fisherman,  or,  as 
he  is  commonly  called,  Mud  Sam,  who  has  fished  about  the 
Sound  for  the  last  half  century.  It  is  now  many  years  since  Sam, 
who  was  then  as  active  a  young  negro  as  any  in  the  province, 
and  worked  on  the  farm  of  Killian  Suydam  on  Long  Island, 
having  finished  his  day's  work  at  an  early  hour,  was  fishing,  one' 
still  summer  evening,  just  about  the  neighborhood  of  Hell-gate. 

He  was  in  a  light  skiff,  and  being  well  acquainted  with  the 
currents  and  eddies,  had  shifted  his  station  according  J;o  the  shift 
ing  of  the  tide,  from  the  Hen  and  Chickens  to  the  Hog's  Back, 
from  the  Hog's  Back  to  the  Pot,  and  from  the  Pot,  to  the  Frying- 
Pan  ;  but  in  the  eagerness  of  his  sport  he  did  not  see  that  the 
tide  was  rapidly  ebbing,  until  the  roaring  of  the  whirlpools  and 
eddies  warned  him  of  his  danger ;  and  he  had  some  difficulty  in 
shooting  his  skiff  from  among  the  rocks  and  breakers,  and  getting 
to  the  point  of  Black  well's  Island.  Here  he  cast  anchor  for  some 
time,  waiting  the  turn  of  the  tide  to  enable  him  to  return  home 
wards.  As  the  night  set  in,  it  grew  blustering  and  gusty.  Dark 
clouds  came  bundling  up  in  the  west ;  and  now  and  then  a  growl 
of  thunder  or  a  flash  of  lightning  told  that  a  summer  storm  was 
at  hand.  Sam  pulled  over,  therefore,  under  the  lee  of  Manhat- 


THE   BLACK   FISHERMAN.  421 


tan  Island,  and  coasting  along,  came  to  a  snug  nook,  just  under  a 
steep  beetling  rock,  where  he  fastened  his  skiff  to  the  root  of  a 
tree  that  shot  out  from  a  cleft,  and  spread  its  broad  branches  like 
a  canopy  over  the  water.  The  gust  came  scouring  along ;  the 
wind  threw  up  the  river  in  white  surges ;  the  rain  rattled  among 
the  leaves ;  the  thunder  bellowed  worse  than  that  which  is  now 
bellowing;  the  lightning  seemed  to  lick  up  the  surges  of  the 
stream ;  but  Sam,  snugly  sheltered  under  rock  and  tree,  lay 
crouching  in  his  skiff,  rocking  upon  the  billows  until  he  fell  asleep. 
When  he  woke  all  was  quiet.  The  gust  had  passed  away,  and 
only  now  and  then  a  faint  gleam  of  lightning  in  the  east  showed 
which  way  it  had  gone.  The  night  was  dark  and  moonless  ;  and 
from  the  state  of  the  tide  Sam  concluded  it  was  near  midnight. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  making  loose  his  skiff  to  return  home 
wards,  when  he  saw  a  light  gleaming  along  the  water  from  a  dis 
tance,  which  seemed  rapidly  approaching.  As  it  drew  near  he 
perceived  it  came  from  a  lantern  in  the  bow  of  a  boat  gliding 
along  under  shadow  of  the  land.  It  pulled  up  in  a  small  cove, 
close  to  where  he  was.  A  man  jumped  on  shore,  and  search 
ing  about  with  the  lantern,  exclaimed,  "This  is  the  place — 
here's  the  iron  ring."  The  boat  was  then  made  fast,  and  the 
man  returning  on  board,  assisted  his  comrades  in  conveying  some 
thing  heavy  on  shore.  As  the  light  gleamed  among  them,  Sam 
saw  that  they  were  five  stout  desperate-looking  fellows,  in  red 
woollen  caps,  with  a  leader  in  a  three-cornered  hat,  and  that  some 
of  them  were  armed  with  dirks,  or  long  knives,  and  pistols. 
They  talked  low  to  one  another,  and  occasionally  in  some  out 
landish  tongue  which  he  could  not  understand. 

On  landing  they  made  their  way  among  the  bushes,  taking 
turns  to  relieve  each  other  in  lugging  their  burden  up  the  rocky 


TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


bank.  Sam's  curiosity  was  now  fully  aroused ;  so  leaving  his 
skiff  he  clambered  silently  up  a  ridge  that  overlooked  their  path. 
They  had  stopped  to  rest  for  a  moment,  and  the  leader  was  look 
ing  about  among  the  bushes  with  his  lantern.  "  Have  you  brought 
the  spades  ?"  said  one.  "  They  are  here,"  replied  another,  who 
had  them  on  his  shoulder.  "  We  must  dig  deep,  where  there 
will  be  no  risk  of  discovery,"  said  a  third. 

A  cold  chill  ran  through  Sam's  veins.  He  fancied  he  saw 
before  him  a  gang  of  murderers,  about  to  bury  their  victim. 
His  knees  smote  together.  In  his  agitation  he  shook  the  branch 
of  a  tree  with  which  he  was  supporting  himself  as  he  looked  over 
the  edge  of  the  cliff. 

"  What's  that  ?"  cried  one  of  the  gang.  "  Some  one  stirs 
among  the  bushes !" 

The  lantern  was  held  up  in  the  direction  of  the  noise.  One 
of  the  red-caps  cocked  a  pistol,  and  pointed  it  towards  the  very 
place  where  Sam  was  standing.  He  stood  motionless — breath 
less  ;  expecting  the  next  moment  to  be  his  last.  Fortunately  his 
dingy  complexion  was  in  his  favor,  and  made  no  glare  among  the 
leaves. 

"  'Tis  no  one,"  said  the  man  with  the  lantern.  "  What  a 
plague !  you  would  not  fire  off  your  pistol  and  alarm  the 
country !" 

The  pistol  was  uncocked ;  the  burden  was  resumed,  and  the 
party  slowly  toiled  along  the  bank.  Sam  watched  them  as  they 
went ;  the  light  sending  back  fitful  gleams  through  the  dripping 
bushes,  and  it  was  not  till  they  were  fairly  out  of  sight  that  he  ven 
tured  to  draw  breath  freely.  He  now  thought  of  getting  back  to 
his  boat,  and  making  his  escape  out  of  the  reach  of  such  danger 
ous  neighbors  ;  but  curiosity  was  all-powerful.  He*  hesitated  and 


THE   BLACK  FISHERMAN.  423 


lingered  and  listened.  By  and  by  he  heard  the  strokes  of  spades. 
"  They  are  digging  the  grave  !"  said  he  to  himself ;  and  the  cold 
sweat  started  upon  his  forehead.  Every  stroke  of  a  spade,  as  it 
sounded  through  the  silent  groves,  went  to  his  heart ;  it  was  evi 
dent  there  was  as  little  noise  made  as  possible  ;  every  thing  had 
an  air  of  terrible  mystery  and  secrecy.  Sam  had  a  great  relish 
for  the  horrible, — a  tale  of  murder  was  a  treat  for  him ;  and  he 
was  a  constant  attendant  at  executions.  He  could  not  resist  an 
impulse,  in  spite  of  every  danger,  to  steal  nearer  to  the  scene  of 
mystery,  and  overlook  the  midnight  fellows  at  their  work.  He 
crawled  along  cautiously,  therefore,  inch  by  inch ;  stepping  with 
the  utmost  care  among  the  dry  leaves,  lest  their  rustling  should 
betray  him.  He  came  at  length  to  where  a  steep  rock  intervened 
between  him  and  the  gang ;  for  he  saw  the  light  of  their  lantern 
shining  up  against  the  branches  of  the  trees  on  the  other  side. 
Sam  slowly  and  silently  clambered  up  the  surface  of  the  rock, 
and  raising  his  head  above  its  naked  edge,  beheld  the  villains 
immediately  below  him,  and  so  near,  that  though  he  dreaded  dis 
covery,  he  dared  not  withdraw  lest  ihe  least  movement  should  be 
heard.  In  this  way  he  remained,  with  his  round  black  face 
peering  above  the  edge  of  the  rock,  like  the  sun  just  emerging 
above  the  edge  of  the  horizon,  or  the  round-cheeked  moon  on 
the  dial  of  a  clock. 

The  red-caps  had  nearly  finished  their  work ;  the  grave  was 
filled  up,  and  they  were  carefully  replacing  the  turf.  This  done, 
they  scattered  dry  leaves  over  the  place.  "  And  now,"  said  the 
leader,  "  I  defy  the  devil  himself  to  find  it  out." 

"  The  murderers  !"  exclaimed  Sam,  involuntarily. 

The  whole  gang  started,  and  looking  up  beheld  the  round 
black  head  of  Sam  just  above  them.  His  white  eyes  strained 


424  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


half  out  of  their  orbits  ;  his  white  teeth  chattering,  and  his  whole 
visage  shining  with  cold  perspiration. 

•*  We're  discovered !"  cried  one. 

"  Down  with  him  !"  cried  another. 

Sam  heard  the  cocking  of  a  pistol,  but  did  not  pause  for  the 
report.  He  scrambled  over  rock  and  stone,  through  brush  and 
brier ;  rolled  down  banks  like  a  hedge-hog;  scrambled  up  others  like 
a  catamount.  In  every  direction  he  heard  some  one  or  other  of  the 
gang  hemming  him  in.  At  length  he  reached  the  rocky  ridge  along 
the  river ;  one  of  the  red-caps  was  hard  behind  him.  A  steep 
rock  like  a  wall  rose  directly  in  his  way ;  it  seemed  to  cut  off  all 
retreat,  when  fortunately  he  espied  the  strong  cord-like  branch 
of  a  grape-vine  reaching  half  way  down  it.  He  sprang  at  it  with 
the  force  of  a  desperate  man,  seized  it  with  both  hands,  and  be 
ing  young  and  agile,  succeeded  in  swinging  himself  to  the  sum 
mit  of  the  cliff.  Here  he  stood  in  full  relief  against  the  sky, 
when  the  red-cap  cocked  his  pistol  and  fired.  The  ball  whistled 
by  Sam's  head.  With  the  lucky  thought  of  a  man  in  an  emer 
gency,  he  uttered  a  yell,  fell  t  >  the  ground,  and  detached  at  the 
same  time  a  fragment  of  the  rock,  which  tumbled  with  a  loud 
splash  into  the  river. 

"  I've  done  his  business,"  said  the  red-cap  to  one  or  two  of 
his  comrades  as  they  arrived  panting.  "  He'll  tell  no  tales,  ex 
cept  to  the  fishes  in  the  river." 

His  pursuers  now  turned  to  meet  their  companions.  Sam 
sliding  silently  down  the  surface  of  the  rock,  let  himself  quietly 
into  his  skiff,  cast  loose  the  fastening,  and  abandoned  himself  to 
the  rapid  current,  which  in  that  place  runs  like  a  mill-stream, 
and  soon  swept  him  off  from  the  neighborhood.  It  was  not,  how 
ever,  until  he  had  drifted  a  great  distance  that  he  ventured  to  ply 


THE   BLACK  FISHERMAN.  425 


his  oars ;  when  he  made  his  skiff  dart  like  an  arrow  through  the 
strait  of  Hell-gate,  never  heeding  the  danger  of  Pot,  Frying- 
Pan,  nor  Hog's  Back  itself:  nor  did  he  feel  himself  thoroughly 
secure  until  safely  nestled  in  bed  in  the  cockloft  of  the  ancient 
farm-house  of  the  Suydams. 

Here  the  worthy  Peechy  Prauw  paused  to  take  breath,  and 
to  take  a  sip  of  the  gossip  tankard  that  stood  at  his  elbow.  His 
auditors  remained  with  open  mouths  and  outstretched  necks, 
gaping  like  a  nest  of  swallows  for  an  additional  mouthful. 

"  And  is  that  all  ?"  exclaimed  the  half-pay  officer. 

"  That's  all  that  belongs  to  the  story,"  said  Peechy  Prauw. 

"  And  did  Sam  never  find  out  what  was  buried  by  the  red 
caps  ?"  said  Wolfert,  eagerly,  whose  mind  was  haunted  by  nothing 
but  ingots  and  doubloons. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Peechy  ;  "  he  had  no  time  to  spare 
from  his  work,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  did  not  like  to  run  the 
risk  of  another  race  among  the  rocks.  Besides,  how  should  he 
recollect  the  spot  where  the  grave  had  been  digged  ?  every  thing 
would  look  so  different  by  daylight.  And  then,  where  was  the 
use  of  looking  for  a  dead  body,  when  there  was  no  chance  of 
hanging  the  murderers  ?" 

"  Aye,  but  are  you  sure  it  was  a  dead  body  they  buried  ?" 
said  Wolfert. 

"  To  be  sure,"  oried  Peechy  Prauw,  exultingly.  "  Does  it 
not  haunt  in  the  neighborhood  to  this  very  day  ?" 

"  Haunts !"  exclaimed  several  of  the  party,  opening  their  eyes 
still  wider,  and  edging  their  chairs  still  closer. 

"  Aye,  haunts,"  repeated  Peechy  ;  "  have  none  of  you  heard 
of  father  Red-cap,  who  haunts  the  old  burnt  farm-house  in  the 
woods,  on  the  border  of  the  Sound,  near  Hell-gate  ?" 


426  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


"  Oh,  to  be  sure,  I've  heard  tell  of  something  of  the  kind,  but 
then  I  took  it  for  some  old  wives'  fable." 

"  Old  wives'  fable  or  not,"  said  Peechy  Prauw,  "  that  farm 
house  stands  hard  by  the  very  spot.  It's  been  unoccupied  time 
out  of  mind,  and  stands  in  a  lonely  part  of  the  coast;  but  those 
who  fish  in  the  neighborhood  have  often  heard  strange  noises 
there ;  and  lights  have  been  seen  about  the  wood  at  night ;  and 
an  old  fellow  in  a  red  cap  has  been  seen  at  the  windows  more 
than  once,  which  people  take  to  be  the  ghost  of  the  body  buried 
there.  Once  upon  a  time  three  soldiers  took  shelter  in  the  build 
ing  for  the  night,  and  rummaged  it  from  top  to  bottom,  when  they 
found  old  father  Red-cap  astride  of  a  cider-barrel  in  the  cellar, 
with  a  jug  in  one  hand  and  a  goblet  in  the  other.  He  offered 
them  a  drink  out  of  his  goblet,  but  just  as  one  of  the  soldiers  was 
putting  it  to  his  mouth — whew  ! — a  flash  of  fire  blazed  through 
the  cellar,  blinded  every  mother's  son  of  them  for  several  minutes, 
and  when  they  recovered  their  eye-sight,  jug,  goblet,  and  Red-cap 
had  vanished,  and  nothing  but  the  empty  cider-barrel  remained." 

Here  the  half-pay  ^officer,  who  was  growing  very  muzzy  and 
sleepy,  and  nodding  ever  his  liquor,  with  half-extinguished  eye, 
suddenly  gleamed  up  like  an  expiring  rushlight. 

"  That's  all  fudge  !"  said  he,  as  Peechy  finished  his  last  story. 

"  Well,  I  don't  vouch  for  the  truth  of  it  myself,"  said  Peechy 
Prauw,  "though  all  the  world  knows  that  there's  something 
strange  about  that  house  and  grounds  ;  but  as  to  the  story  of 
Mud  Sam,  I  believe  it  just  as  well  as  if  it  had  happened  to 
myself." 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  427 


The  deep  interest  taken  in  this  conversation  by  the  company- 
had  made  them  unconscious  of  the  uproar  abroad  among  the  ele 
ments,  when  suddenly  they  were  electrified  by  a  tremendous 
clap  of  thunder.  A  lumbering  crash  followed  instantaneously, 
shaking  the  building  to  its  very  foundation.  All  started  from 
their  seats,  imagining  it  the  shock  of  an  earthquake,  or  that  old 
father  Red-cap  was  coming  among  them  in  all  his  terrors.  They 
listened  for  a  moment,  but  only  heard  the  rain  pelting  against  the 
windows,  and  the  wind  howling  among  the  trees.  The  explosion 
was  soon  explained  by  the  apparition  of  an  old  negro's  bald  head 
thrust  in  at  the  door,  his  white  goggle  eyes  contrasting  with  his 
jetty  poll,  which  was  wet  with  rain,  and  shone  like  a  bottle.  In 
a  jargon  but  half  intelligible,  he  announced  that  the  kitchen 
chimney  had  been  struck  with  lightning. 

A  sullen  pause  of  the  storm,  which  now  rose  and  sunk  in 
gusts,  produced  a  momentary  stillness.  In  this  interval  the 
report  of  a  musket  was  heard,  and  a  long  shout,  almost  like  a 
yell,  resounded  from  the  shores.  Every  one  crowded  to  the  win 
dow  ;  another  musket-shot  was  heard,  and  another  long  shout, 
mingled  wildly  with  a  rising  blast  of  wind.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
cry  came  up  from  the  bosom  of  the  waters ;  for  though  incessant 
flashes  of  lightning  spread  a  light  about  the  shore,  no  one  was  to 
be  seen. 

Suddenly  the  window  of  the  room  overhead  was  opened,  and 
a  loud  halloo  uttered  by  the  mysterious  stranger.  Several  hail- 
ings  passed  from  one  party  to  the  other,  but  in  a  language  which 
none  of  the  company  in  the  bar-room  could  understand ;  and 
presently  they  heard  the  window  closed,  and  a  great  noise  over 
head,  as  if  all  the  furniture  were  pulled  and  hauled  about  the 
room.  The  negro  servant  was  summoned,  and  shortly  afterwards 


428  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


was  seen  assisting  the  veteran  to  lug  the  ponderous  sea-chest 
down  stairs. 

The  landlord  was  in  amazement.  "  What,  you  are  not  going 
on  the  water  in  such  a  storm  ?" 

"  Storm  !"  said  the  other,  scornfully,  "  do  you  call  such  a 
sputter  of  weather  a  storm  ?" 

"  You'll  get  drenched  to  the  skin — You'll  catch  your  death !" 
said  Peechy  Prauw,  affectionately. 

"  Thunder  and  lightning  !"  exclaimed  the  merman,  "  don't 
preach  about  weather  to  a  man  that  hus  cruised  in  whirlwinds 
and  tornadoes." 

The  obsequious  Peechy  was  again  struck  dumb.  The  voice 
from  the  water  was  heard  once  more  in  a  tone  of  impatience  ;  the 
bystanders  stared  with  redoubled  awe  at  this  man  of  storms,  who 
seemed  to  have  come  up  out  of  the  deep,  and  to  be  summoned 
back  to  it  again.  As,  with  the  assistance  of  the  negro,  he  slowly 
bore  his  ponderous  sea-chest  towards  the  shore,  they  eyed  it  with 
a  superstitious  feeling  ;  half  doubting  whether  he  were  not  really 
about  to  embark  upon  it  and  launch  forth  upon  the  wild  waves. 
They  followed  him  at  a  distance  with  a  lantern. 

"  Dowse  the  light !"  roared  the  hoarse  voice  from  the  water. 
"  No  one  wants  lights  here  !" 

"  Thunder  and  lightning !"  exclaimed  the  veteran,  turning 
short  upon  them  ;  "  back  to  the  house  with  you  !" 

Wolfert  and  his  companions  shrunk  back  in  dismay.  Still 
their  curiosity  would  not  allow  them  entirely  to  withdraw.  A 
long  sheet  of  lightning  now  flickered  across  the  waves,  and  dis 
covered  a  boat,  filled  with  men,  just  under  a  rocky  point,  rising 
and  sinking  with  the  heaving  surges,  and  swashing  the  water  at 
every  heave.  It  was  with  difficulty  held  to  the  rocks  by  a  boat- 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  429 

hook,  for  the  current  rushed  furiously  round  the  point.  The  vete 
ran  hoisted  one  end  of  the  lumbering  sea-chest  on  the  gunwale 
of  the  boat,  and  seized  the  handle  at  the  other  end  to  lift  it  in, 
when  the  motion  propelled  the  boat  from  the  shore ;  the  chest 
slipped  off  from  the  gunwale,  and,  sinking  into  the  waves,  pulled 
the  veteran  headlong  after  it.  A  loud  shriek  was  uttered  by  all 
on  shore,  and  a  volley  of  execrations  by  those  on  board ;  but 
boat  and  man  were  hurried  away  by  the  rushing  swiftness  of  the 
tide.  A  pitchy  darkness  succeeded ;  Wolfert  Webber  indeed  fan 
cied  that  he  distinguished  a  cry  for  help,  and  that  he  beheld  the 
drowning  man  beckoning  for  assistance  ;  but  when  the  lightning 
again  gleamed  along  the  water,  all  was  void ;  neither  man  nor 
boat  was  to  be  seen  ;  nothing  but  the  dashing  and  weltering  of 
the  waves  as  they  hurried  past. 

The  company  returned  to  the  tavern  to  await  the  subsiding 
of  the  storm.  They  resumed  their  seats,  and  gazed  on  each  other 
with  dismay.  The  whole  transaction  had  not  occupied  five  min 
utes,  and  not  a  dozen  words  had  been  spoken.  When  they  looked 
at  the  oaken  chair,  they  could  scarcely  realize  the  fact  that  the 
strange  being  who  had  so  lately  tenanted  it,  full  of  life  and  Her 
culean  vigor,  should  already  be  a  corpse.  There  was  the  very 
glass  he  had  just  drunk  from  ;  there  lay  the  ashes  from  the  pipe 
which  he  had  smoked,  as  it  were,  with  his  last  breath.  As  the 
worthy  burghers  pondered  on  these  things,  they  felt  a  terrible 
conviction  of  the  uncertainty  of  existence,  and  each  felt  as  if  the 
ground  on  which  he  stood  was  rendered  less  stable  by  this  awful 
example. 

As,  however,  the  most  of  the  company  were  possessed  of  that 
valuable  philosophy  which  enables  a  man  to  bear  up  with  forti 
tude  against  the  misfortunes  of  his  neighbors,  they  soon  managed 


430  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


to  console  themselves  for  the  tragic  end  of  the  veteran.  The 
landlord  was  particularly  happy  that  the  poor  dear  man  had  paid 
his  reckoning  before  he  went ;  and  made  a  kind  of  farewell 
speech  on  the  occasion. 

"  He  came,"  said  he,  "  in  a  storm,  and  he  went  in  a  storm  ; 
he  came  in  the  night,  and  he  went  in  the  niglit ;  he  came  nobody 
knows  whence,  and  he  has  gone  nobody  knows  where.  For  aught 
I  know  he  has  gone  to  sea  once  more  on  his  chest,  and  may  land 
to  bother  some  people  on  the  other  side  of  the  world  !  Though 
it's  a  thousand  pities,"  added  he,  "  if  he  has  gone  to  Davy  Jones' 
locker,  that  he  had  not  left  his  own  locker  behind  him." 

"  His  locker !  St.  Nicholas  preserve  us !"  cried  Peechy 
Prauw.  "  I'd  not  have  had  that  sea-chest  in  the  house  for  any 
money ;  I'll  warrant  he'd  come  racketing  after  it  at  nights,  and 
making  a  haunted  house  of  the  inn.  And,  as  to  his  going  to  sea 
in  his  chest,  I  recollect  what  happened  to  Skipper  Onderdonk's 
ship  on  his  voyage  from  Amsterdam. 

"  The  boatswain  died  during  a  storm,  so  they  wrapped  him 
up  in  a  sheet,  and  put  him  in  his  own  sea-chest,  and  threw  him 
overboard  ;  but  they  neglected  in  their  hurry-skurry  to  say  pray 
ers  over  him — and  the  storm  raged  and  roared  louder  than  ever, 
and  they  saw  the  dead  man  seated  in  his  chest,  with  his  shroud 
for  a  sail,  coming  hard  after  the  ship ;  and  the  sea  breaking  be 
fore  him  in  great  sprays  like  fire ;  and  there  they  kept  scudding 
day  after  day,  and  night  after  night,  expecting  every  moment  to 
go  to  wreck  ;  and  every  night  they  saw  the  dead  boatswain  in  his 
sea-chest  trying  to  get  up  with  them,  and  they  heard  his  whistle 
above  the  blasts  of  wind,  and  he  seemed  to  send  great  seas  moun 
tain  high  after  them,  that  would  have  swamped  the  ship  if  they 
had  not  put  up  the  dead-lights.  And  so  it  went  on  till  they  lost 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  431 


sight  of  him  in  the  fogs  off  Newfoundland,  and  supposed  he  had 
veered  ship  and  stood  for  Dead  Man's  Isle.  So  much  for  bury 
ing  a  man  at  sea  without  saying  prayers  over  him." 

The  thundergust  which  had  hitherto  detained  the  company 
was  now  at  an  end.  The  cuckoo  clock  in  the  hall  told  midnight ; 
every  one  pressed  to  depart,  for  seldom  was  such  a  late  hour  of 
the  night  trespassed  on  by  these  quiet  burghers.  As  they  sallied 
forth,  they  found  the  heavens  once  more  serene.  The  storm 
which  had  lately  obscured  them  had  rolled  away,  and  lay  piled 
up  in  fleecy  masses  on  the  horizon,  lighted  up  by  the  bright  cres 
cent  of  the  moon,  which  looked  like  a  little  silver  lamp  hung  up 
in  a  palace  of  clouds. 

The  dismal  occurrence  of  the  night,  and  the  dismal  narrations 
they  had  made,  had  left  a  superstitious  feeling  in  every  mind. 
They  cast  a  fearful  glance  at  the  spot  where  the  buccaneer  had 
disappeared,  almost  expecting  to  see  him  sailing  on  his  chest  in 
tne  cool  moonshine.  The  trembling  rays  glittered  along  the 
waters,  but  all  was  placid ;  and  the  current  dimpled  over  the  spot 
where  he  had  gone  down.  The  party  huddled  together  in  a  little 
crowd  as  they  repaired  homewards ;  particularly  when  they 
passed  a  lonely  field  where  a  man  had  been  murdered ;  and  even 
the  sexton,  who  had  to  complete  his  journey  alone,  though  accus 
tomed,  one  would  think,  to  ghosts  and  goblins,  went  a  long  way 
round,  rather  than  pass  by  his  own  church-yard. 

Wolfert  "Webber  had  now  carried  home  a  fresh  stock  of  stories 
and  notions  to  ruminate  upon.  These  accounts  of  pots  of  money 
and  Spanish  treasures,  buried  here  and  there  and  every  where, 
about  the  rocks  and  bays  of  these  wild  shores,  made  him  almost 
dizzy.  "  Blessed  St.  Nicholas !"  ejaculated  he  half  aloud,  "  is  it 
not  possible  to  come  upon  one  of  these  golden  hoards,  and  to 


432  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


make  one's  self  rich  in  a  twinkling  ?  How  hard  that  I  must  go 
on,  delving  and  delving,  day  in  and  day  out,  merely  to  make  a 
morsel  of  bread,  when  one  lucky  stroke  of  a  spade  might  enable 
me  to  ride  in  my  carriage  for  the  rest  of  my  life  ?" 

As  he  turned  over  in  his  thoughts  all  that  had  been  told  of 
the  singular  adventure  of  the  negro  fisherman,  his  imagination 
gave  a  totally  different  complexion  to  the  tale.  He  saw  in  the 
gang  of  red-caps  nothing  but  a  crew  of  pirates  burying  their 
spoils,  and  his  cupidity  was  once  more  awakened  by  the  possibility 
of  at  length  getting  on  the  traces  of  some  of  this  lurking  wealth. 
Indeed,  his  infected  fancy  tinged  every  thing  with  gold.  He  felt 
like  the  greedy  inhabitant  of  Bagdad,  when  his  eyes  had  been 
greased  with  the  magic  ointment  of  the  dervise,  that  gave  him  to 
see  all  the  treasures  of  the  earth.  Caskets  of  buried  jewels, 
chests  of  ingots,  and  barrels  of  outlandish  coins,  seemed  to  court 
him  from  their  concealments,  and  supplicate  him  to  relieve  them 
from  their  untimely  graves. 

On  making  private  inquiries  about  the  grounds  said  to  be 
haunted  by  Father  Red-cap,  he  was  more  and  more  confirmed  in 
his  surmise.  He  learned  that  the  place  had  several  times  been 
visited  by  experienced  money-diggers,  who  had  heard  black  Sam's 
story,  though  none  of  them  had  met  with  success.  On  the  con 
trary,  they  had  always  been  dogged  with  ill-luck  of  some  kind  or 
other,  in  consequence,  as  Wolfert  concluded,  of  not  going  to  work 
at  the  proper  time,  and  with  the  proper  ceremonials.  The  last 
attempt  had  been  made  by  Cobus  Quackenbos,  who  dug  for  a 
whole  night,  and  met  with  incredible  difficulty,  for  as  fast  as  he 
threw  one  shovel  full  of  earth  out  of  the  hole,  two  were  thrown  in 
by  invisible  hands.  He  succeeded  so  far,  however,  as  to  uncover 
an  iron  chest,  when  there  was  a  terrible  roaring,  ramping,  and 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  433 


raging  of  uncouth  figures  about  the  hole,  and  at  length  a  shower 
of  blows,  dealt  by  invisible  cudgels,  fairly  belabored  him  off  of 
the  forbidden  ground.  This  Cobus  Quackenbos  had  declared  on 
his  death-bed,  so  that  there  could  not  be  any  doubt  of  it.  He 
was  a  man  that  had  devoted  many  years  of  his  life  to  money-dig 
ging,  and  it  was  thought  would  have  ultimately  succeeded,  had  he 
not  died  recently  of  a  brain-fever  in  the  alms-house. 

Wolfert  Webber  was  now  in  a  worry  of  trepidation  and  impa 
tience  ;  fearful  lest  some  rival  adventurer  should  get  a  scent  of 
the  buried  gold.  He  determined  privately  to  seek  out  the  black 
fisherman,  and  get  him  to  serve  as  guide  to  the  place  where  he 
had  witnessed  the  mysterious  scene  of  interment.  Sam  was 
easily  found ;  for  he  was  one  of  those  old  habitual  beings  that 
live  about  a  neighborhood  until  they  wear  themselves  a  place  in 
the  public  mind,  and  become,  in  a  manner,  public  characters. 
TJhere  was  not  an  unlucky  urchin  about  town  that  did  not  know 
Sam  the  fisherman,  and  think  that  he  had  a  right  to  play  his  tricks 
upon  the  old  negro.  Sam  had  led  an  amphibious  life  for  more 
than  half  a  century,  about  the  shores  of  the  bay,  and  the  fishing- 
grounds  of  the  Sound.  He  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  time 
on  and  in  the  water,  particularly  about  Hell-gate ;  and  might 
have  been  taken,  in  bad  weather,  for  one  of  the  hobgoblins  that 
used  to  haunt  that  strait.  There  would  he  be  seen,  at  all  times, 
and  in  all  weathers ;  sometimes  in  his  skiff,  anchored  among 
the  eddies,  or  prowling,  like  a  shark  about  some  wreck,  where  the 
fish  are  supposed  to  be  most  abundant.  Sometimes  seated  on  a 
rock  from  hour  to  hour,  looking  in  the  mist  and  drizzle,  like  a 
solitary  heron  watching  for  its  prey.  He  was  well  acquainted 
with  every  hole  and  corner  of  the  Sound  ;  from  the  Wallabout  to 
Hell-gate,  and  from  Hell-gate  even  unto  the  Devil's  Stepping- 

19 


434  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


Stones ;  and  it  was  even  affirmed  that  he  knew  all  the  fish  in  the 
river  by  their  Christian  names. 

Wolfert  found  him  at  his  cabin,  which  was  not  much  larger 
than  a  tolerable  dog-house.  It  was  rudely  constructed  of  frag 
ments  of  wrecks  and  drift-wood,  and  built  on  the  rocky  shore,  at 
the  foot  of  the  old  fort,  just  about  what  at  present  forms  the  point 
of  the  Battery.  A  "  most  ancient  and  fish-like  smell "  pervaded 
the  place.  Oars,  paddles,  and  fishing-rods  were  leaning  against 
the  wall  of  the  fort;  a  net  was  spread  on  the  sands  to  dry;  a 
skiff  was  drawn  up  on  the  beach,  and  at  the  door  of  his  cabin  was 
Mud  Sam  himself,  indulging  in  the  true  negro  luxury  of  sleeping 
in  the  sunshine. 

Many  years  had  passed  away  since  the  time  of  Sam's  youth 
ful  adventure,  and  the  snows  of  many  a  winter  had  grizzled  the 
knotty  wool  upon  his  head.  He  perfectly  recollected  the  circum 
stances,  however,  for  he  had  often  been  called  upon  to  relate 
them,  though  in  his  version  of  the  story  he  differed  in  many 
points  from  Peechy  Prauw  ;  as  is  not  unfrequently  the  case  with 
authentic  historians.  As  to  the  subsequent  researches  of  money- 
diggers,  Sam  knew  nothing  about  them ;  they  were  matters  quite 
out  of  his  line ;  neither  did  the  cautious  Wolfert  care  to  disturb 
his  thoughts  on  that  point.  His  only  wish  was  to  secure  the  old 
fisherman  as  a  pilot  to  the  spot,  and  this  was  readily  effected. 
The  long  time  that  had  intervened  since  his  nocturnal  adventure 
had  effaced  all  Sam's  awe  of  the  place,  and  the  promise  of  a  tri 
fling  reward  roused  him  at  once  from  his  sleep  and  his  sunshine. 

The  tide  was  adverse  to  making  the  expedition  by  water,  and 
Wolfert  was  too  impatient  to  get  to  the  land  of  promise,  to  wait 
for  its  turning ;  they  set  off,  therefore,  by  land.  A  walk  of  four 
or  five  miles  brought  them  to  the  edge  of  a  wood,  which  at  that 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  435 


time  covered  the  greater  part  of  the  eastern  side  of  the  island. 
It  was  just  beyond  the  pleasant  region  of  Bloomen-dael.  Here 
they  struck  into  a  long  lane,  straggling  among  trees  and  bushes, 
very  much  overgrown  with  weeds  and  mullen-stalks,  as  if  but 
seldom  used,  and  so  completely  overshadowed  as  to  enjoy  but  a 
kind  of  twilight.  Wild  vines  entangled  the  trees  and  flaunted  in 
their  faces;  brambles  and  briers  caught  their  clothes  as  they 
passed;  the  garter-snake  glided  across  their  path;  the  spotted 
toad  hopped  and  waddled  before  them,  and  the  restless  cat-bird 
mewed  at  them  from  every  thicket.  Had  Wolfert  Webber  been 
deeply  read  in  romantic  legend,  he  might  have  fancied  himself 
entering  upon  forbidden,  enchanted  ground ;  or  that  these  were 
some  of  the  guardians  set  to  keep  watch  upon  buried  treasure. 
As  it  was,  the  loneliness  of  the  place,  and  the  wild  stories  con 
nected  with  it,  had  their  effect  upon  his  mind. 

On  reaching  the  lower  end  of  the  lane,  they  found  themselves 
near  the  shore  of  the  Sound  in  a  kind  of  amphitheatre,  surrounded 
by  forest  trees.  The  area  had  once  been  a  grassplot,  but  was 
now  shagged  with  briers  and  rank  weeds.  At  one  end,  and 
just  on  the  river  bank,  was  a  ruined  building,  little  better  than  a 
heap  of  rubbish,  with  a  stack  of  chimneys  rising  like  a  solitary 
tower  out  of  the  centre.  The  current  of  the  Sound  rushed  along 
just  below  it ;  with  wildly  grown  trees  drooping  their  branches 
into  its  waves. 

Wolfert  had  not  a  doubt  that  this  was  the  haunted  house  of 
Father  Red-cap,  and  called  to  mind  the  story  of  Peechy  Prauw. 
The  evening  was  approaching,  and  the  light  falling  dubiously 
among  these  woody  places,  gave  a  melancholy  tone  to  the  scene, 
well  calculated  to  foster  any  lurking  feeling  of  awe  or  superstition. 
The  night-hawk,  wheeling  about  in  the  highest  regions  of  the  air, 


436  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


emitted  his  peevish,  boding  cry.  The  woodpecker  gave  a  lonely 
tap  now  and  then  on  some  hollow  tree,  and  the  fire-bird*  streamed 
by  them  with  his  deep-red  plumage. 

They  now  came  to  an  inclosure  that  had  once  been  a  garden. 
It  extended  along  the  foot  of  a  rocky  ridge,  but  was  little  better 
than  a  wilderness  of  weeds,  with  here  and  there  a  matted  rose 
bush,  or  a  peach  or  plum-tree  grown  wild  and  ragged,  and  covered 
with  moss.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  garden  they  passed  a  kind  of 
vault  in  the  side  of  a  bank,  facing  the  water.  It  had  the  look  of 
a  root-house.  The  door,  though  decayed,  was  still  strong,  and 
appeared  to  have  been  recently  patched  up.  Wolfert  pushed  it 
open.  It  gave  a  harsh  grating  upon  its  hinges,  and  striking 
against  something  like  a  box,  a  rattling  sound  ensued,  and  a  skull 
rolled  on  the  floor.  Wolfert  drew  back  shuddering,  but  was  reas 
sured  on  being  informed  by  the  negro  that  this  was  a  family-vault, 
belonging  to  one  of  the  old  Dutch  families  that  owned  this  estate ; 
an  assertion  corroborated  by  the  sight  of  coffins  of  various  sizes 
piled  within.  Sam  had  been  familiar  with  all  these  scenes  when 
a  boy,  and  now  knew  that  he  could  not  be  far  from  the  place  of 
which  they  were  in  quest. 

They  now  made  their  way  to  the  water's  edge,  scrambling 
along  ledges  of  rocks  that  overhung  the  waves,  and  obliged  often 
to  hold  by  shrubs  and  grape-vines  to  avoid  slipping  into  the  deep 
and  hurried  stream.  At  length  they  came  to  a  small  cove,  or 
rather  indent  of  the  shore.  It  was  protected  by  steep  rocks,  and 
overshadowed  by  a  thick  copse  of  oaks  and  chestnuts,  so  as  to  be 
sheltered  and  almost  concealed.  The  beach  shelved  gradually 
within  the  cove,  but  the  current  swept  deep  and  black  and  rapid 
along  its  jutting  points.  The  negro  paused  ;  raised  his  remnant 

*  Orchard  Oriole. 


WOLFERT  WEBBER.  437 


of  a  hat,  and  scratched  his  grizzled  poll  for  a  moment,  as  he  re 
garded  this  nook ;  then  suddenly  clapping  his  hands,  he  stepped 
exultingly  forward,  and  pointed  to  a  large  iron  ring,  stapled  firmly 
in  the  rock,  just  where  a  broad  shelf  of  stone  furnished  a  com 
modious  landing-place.  It  was  the  very  spot  where  the  red-caps 
had  landed.  Years  had  changed  the  more  perishable  features  of 
the  scene ;  but  rock  and  iron  yield  slowly  to  the  influence  of  time. 
On  looking  more  closely,  Wolfert  remarked  three  crosses  cut  in 
the  rock  just  above  the  ring,  which  had  no  doubt  some  mysterious 
signification.  Old  Sam  now  readily  recognized  the  overhanging 
rock  under  which  his  skiff  had  been  sheltered  during  the  thunder- 
gust.  To  follow  up  the  course  which  the  midnight  gang  had 
taken,  however,  was  a  harder  task.  His  mind  had  been  so  much 
taken  up  on  that  eventful  occasion  by  the  persons  of  the  drama, 
as  to  pay  but  little  attention  to  the  scenes  ;  and  these  places  look 
so  different  by  night  and  day.  After  wandering  about  for  some 
time,  however,  they  came  to  an  opening  among  the  trees  which 
Sam  thought  resembled  the  place.  There  was  a  ledge  of  rock 
of  moderate  height  like  a  wall  on  one  side,  which  he  thought 
might  be  the  very  ridge  whence  he  had  overlooked  the  diggers. 
Wolfert  examined  it  narrowly,  and  at  length  discovered  three 
crosses  similar  to  those  above  the  iron  ring,  cut  deeply  into  the 
face  of  the  rock,  but  nearly  obliterated  by  moss  that  had  grown 
over  them.  His  heart  leaped  with  joy,  for  he  doubted  not  they 
were  the  private  marks  of  the  buccaneers.  All  now  that  re 
mained  was  to  ascertain  the  precise  spot  where  the  treasure  lay 
buried  ;  for  otherwise  he  might  dig  at  random  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  crosses,  without  coming  upon  the  spoils,  and  he  had  already 
had  enough  of  such  profitless  labor.  Here,  however,  the  old 
negro  was  perfectly  at  a  loss,  and  indeed  perplexed  him  by  a 


438  TALES  OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


variety  of  opinions ;  for  his  recollections  were  all  confused. 
Sometimes  he  declared  it  must  have  been  at  the  foot  of  a  mul 
berry-tree  hard  by ;  then  beside  a  great  white  stone ;  then  under 
a  small  green  knoll,  a  short  distance  from  the  ledge  of  rocks ; 
until  at  length  Wolfert  became  as  bewildered  as  himself. 

The  shadows  of  evening  were  now  spreading  themselves  over 
the  woods,  and  rock  and  tree  began  to  mingle  together.  It  was 
evidently  too  late  to  attempt  any  thing  farther  at  present ;  and, 
indeed,  Wolfert  had  come  unprovided  with  implements  to  prose 
cute  his  researches.  Satisfied,  therefore,  with  having  ascertained 
the  place,  he  took  note  of  all  its  landmarks,  that  he  might  recog 
nize  it  again,  and  set  out  on  his  return  homewards,  resolved  to 
prosecute  this  golden  enterprise  without  delay. 

The  leading  anxiety  which  had  hitherto  absorbed  every  feel 
ing,  being  now  in  some  measure  appeased,  fancy  began  to  wander, 
and  to  conjure  up  a  thousand  shapes  and  chimeras  as  he  returned 
through  this  haunted  region.  Pirates  hanging  in  chains  seemed 
to  swing  from  every  tree,  and  he  almost  expected  to  see  some 
Spanish  Don,  with  his  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear,  rising  slowly 
out  of  the  ground,  and  shaking  the  ghost  of  a  money-bag. 

Their  way  back  lay  through  the  desolate  garden,  and  Wolfert's 
nerves  had  arrived  at  so  sensitive  a  state  that  the  flitting  of  a 
bird,  the  rustling  of  a  leaf,  or  the  falling  of  a  nut,  was  enough  to 
startle  him.  As  they  entered  the  confines  of  the  garden,  they 
caught  sight  of  a  figure  at  a  distance  advancing  slowly  up  one 
of  the  walks,  and  bending  under  the  weight  of  a  burden.  They 
paused  and  regarded  him  attentively.  He  wore  what  appeared 
to  be  a  woollen  cap,  and  still  more  alarming,  of  a  most  sanguinary 
red. 

The  figure  moved  slowly  on,  ascended  the  bank,  and  stopped 


WOLFERT  WEBBER.  439 


at  the  very  door  of  the  sepulchral  vault.  Just  before  entering  it 
he  looked  around.  What  was  the  affright  of  "Wolfert,  when  he 
recognized  the  grisly  visage  of  the  drowned  buccaneer !  He 
uttered  an  ejaculation  of  horror.  The  figure  slowly  raised  his 
iron  fist,  and  shook  it  with  a  terrible  menace.  Wolfert  did  not 
pause  to  see  any  more,  but  hurried  off  as  fast  as  his  legs  could 
carry  him,  nor  was  Sam  slow  in  following  at  his  heels,  having  all 
his  ancient  terrors  revived.  Away,  then,  did  they  scramble 
through  bush  and  brake,  horribly  frightened  at  every  bramble 
that  tugged  at  their  skirts,  nor  did  they  pause  to  breathe,  until 
they  had  blundered  their  way  through  this  perilous  wood,  and 
fairly  reached  the  high  road  to  the  city. 

Several  days  elapsed  before  Wolfert  could  summon  courage 
enough  to  prosecute  the  enterprise,  so  much  had  he  been  dis 
mayed  by  the  apparition,  whether  living  or  dead,  of  the  grisly 
buccaneer.  In  the  meantime,  what  a  conflict  of  mind  did  he 
suffer !  He  neglected  all  his  concerns^  was  moody  and  restless 
all  day,  lost  his  appetite,  wandered  in  his  thoughts  and  words,  and 
committed  a  thousand  blunders.  His  rest  was  broken  ;  and  when 
he  fell  asleep,  the  nightmare,  in  shape  of  a  huge  money-bag,  sat 
squatted  upon  his  breast.  He  babbled  about  incalculable  sums ; 
fancied  himself  engaged  in  money-digging  ;  threw  the  bedclothes 
right  and  left,  in  the  idea  that  he  was  shovelling  away  the  dirt ; 
groped  under  the  bed  in  quest  of  the  treasure,  and  lugged  forth, 
as  he  supposed,  an  inestimable  pot  of  gold. 

Dame  Webber  and  her  daughter  were  in  despair  at  what  they 
conceived  a  returning  touch  of  insanity.  There  are  two  family 
oracles,  one  or  other  of  which  Dutch  housewives  consult  in  all 
cases  of  great  doubt  and  perplexity — the  dominie  and  the  doctor. 
In  the  present  instance  they  repaired  to  the  doctor.  There  was 


440  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


at  that  time  a  little  dark  mouldy  man  of  medicine,  famous  among 
the  old  wives  of  the  Manhattoes  for  his  skill,  not  only  in  the 
healing  art,  but  in  all  matters  of  strange  and  mysterious  nature. 
His  name  was  Dr.  Knipperhausen,  but  he  was  more  commonly 
known  by  the  appellation  of  the  High  German  Doctor.*  To 
him  did  the  poor  women  repair  for  counsel  and  assistance  touch 
ing  the  mental  vagaries  of  Wolfert  Webber. 

They  found  the  doctor  seated  in  his  little  study,  clad  in  his 
dark  camlet  robe  of  knowledge,  with  his  black  velvet  cap ;  after 
the  manner  of  Boorhaave,  Van  Helmont,  and  other  medical  sages  ; 
a  pair  of  green  spectacles  set  in  black  horn  upon  his  clubbed  nose, 
and  poring  over  a  German  folio  that  reflected  back  the  darkness 
of  his  physiognomy.  The  doctor  listened  to  their  statement  of 
the  symptoms  of  Wolfert's  malady  with  profound  attention ;  but 
when  they  came  to  mention  his  raving  about  buried  money,  the 
little  man  pricked  up  his  ears.  Alas,  poor  women !  they  little 
knew  the  aid  they  had  called  in. 

Dr.  Knipperhausen  had  been  half  his  life  engaged  in  seeking 
the  short  cuts  to  fortune,  in  quest  of  which  so  many  a  long  life- 
lime  is  wasted.  He  had  passed  some  years  of  his  youth  among 
the  Harz  mountains  of  Germany,  and  had  derived  much  valua 
ble  instruction  from  the  miners,  touching  the  mode  of  seeking 
treasure  buried  in  the  earth.  He  had  prosecuted  his  studies 
also  under  a  travelling  sage  who  united  the  mysteries  of  medi 
cine  with  magic  and  legerdemain.  His  mind  therefore  had  be 
come  stored  with  all  kinds  of  mystic  lore ;  he  had  dabbled  a 
little  in  astrology,  alchemy,  divination ;  knew  how  to  detect  stolen 
money,  and  to  tell  where  springs  of  water  lay  hidden ;  in  a  word, 

*  The  same,  no  doubt,  of  whom  mention  is  made  in  the  history  of  Dolph 
Heyliger. 


WOLFERT    WEBBER.  441 


by  the  dark  nature  of  his  knowledge  he  had  acquired  the  name 
of  the  High  German  Doctor,  which  is  pretty  nearly  equivalent  to 
that  of  necromancer.  The  doctor  had  often  heard  rumors  of 
treasure  being  buried  in  various  parts  of  the  island,  and  had  long 
been  anxious  to  get  on  the  traces  of  it.  No  sooner  were  Wol- 
fert's  waking  and  sleeping  vagaries  confided  to  him,  than  he  beheld 
in  them  the  confirmed  symptoms  of  a  case  of  money-digging,  and 
lost  no  time  in  probing  it  to  the  bottom.  Wolfert  had  long  been 
sorely  oppressed  in  mind  by  the  golden  secret,  and  as  a  family 
physician  is  a  kind  of  father  confessor,  he  was  glad  of  any  oppor 
tunity  of  unburdening  himself.  So  far  from  curing,  the  doctor 
caught  the  malady  from  his  patient.  The  circumstances  unfolded 
to  him  awakened  all  his  cupidity  ;  he  had  not  a  doubt  of  money 
being  buried  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  mysterious 
crosses,  and  offered  to  join  Wolfert  in  the  search.  He  informed 
him  that  much  secrecy  and  caution  must  be  observed  in  enter 
prises  of  the  kind ;  that  money  is  only  to  be  digged  for  at  night ; 
with  certain  forms  and  ceremonies ;  the  burning  of  drugs  ;  the 
repeating  of  mystic  words,  and  above  all,  that  the  seekers  must 
first  be  provided  with  a  divining  rod,  which  had  the  wonderful 
property  of  pointing  to  the  very  spot  on  the  surface  of  the  earth 
under  which  treasure  lay  hidden.  As  the  doctor  had  given  much 
of  his  mind  to  these  matters,  he  charged  himself  with  all  the 
necessary  preparations,  and,  as  the  quarter  of  the  moon  was  pro 
pitious,  he  undertook  to  have  the  divining  rod  ready  by  a  certain 
night.* 

*  The  following  note  was  found  appended  to  this  passage  in  the  hand 
writing  of  Mr.  Knickerbocker.  "  There  has  been  innch  written  against  the 
divining  rod  by  those  light  minds  who  are  ever  ready  to  scoff  at  the  mysteries 
of  nature  ;  but  I  fully  join  with  Dr.  Knippcrhausen  in  giving  it  my  faith.  I 

19* 


442  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


Wolfert's  heart  leaped  with  joy  at  having  met  with  so  learned 
and  able  a  coadjutor.  Every  thing  went  on  secretly,  but  swim 
mingly.  The  doctor  had  many  consultations  with  his  patient, 
and  the  good  woman  of  the  household  lauded  the  comforting 
effect  of  his  visits.  In  the  meantime  the  wonderful  divining  rod, 
that  great  key  to  nature's  secrets,  was  duly  prepared.  The  doc- 
shall  not  insist  upon  its  efficacy  in  discovering  the  concealment  of  stolen  goods, 
the  boundary  stones  of  fields,  the  traces  of  robbers  and  murderers,  or  even  the 
existence  of  subterraneous  springs  and  streams  of  water :  albeit,  I  think  these 
properties  not  to  be  readily  discredited  ;  but  of  its  potency  in  discovering  veins 
of  precious  metal,  and  hidden  sums  of  money  and  jewels,  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt.  Some  said  that  the  rod  turned  only  in  the  hands  of  persons  who  had 
been  bom  in  particular  months  of  the  year  ;  hence  astrologers  had  recourse  to 
planetary  influence  when  they  would  procure  a  talisman.  Others  declared  that 
the  properties  of  the  rod  were  either  an  effect  of  chance,  or  the  fraud  of  the 
holder,  or  the  work  of  the  devil.  Thus  saith  the  reverend  father  Gaspard  Se- 
bett  in  his  Treatise  on  Magic  :  '  Propter  haec  et  similia  argumenta  audacter 
ego  promisero  vim  conversivam  virgulae  bifurcates  nequaquam  naturalem  esse, 
sed  vel  casu  vel  fraude  virgulam  tractantis  vel  ope  diaboli,'  &c. 

"  Georgius  Agricola  also  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  a  mere  delusion  of  the 
devil  to  inveigle  the  avaricious  and  unwary  into  his  clutches,  and  in  his  treatise 
'  de  re  Metallica,'  lays  particular  stress  on  the  mysterious  words  pronounced 
by  those  persons  who  employed  the  divining  rod  during  his  time.  But  I  make 
not  a  doubt  that  the  divining  rod  is  one  of  those  secrets  of  natural  magic,  the 
mystery  of  which  is  to  be  explained  by  the  sympathies  existing  between  physi 
cal  things  operated  upon  by  the  planets,  and  rendered  efficacious  by  the  strong 
faith  of  the  individual.  Let  the  divining  rod  be  properly  gathered  at  the  proper 
time  of  the  moon,  cut  into  the  proper  form,  used  with  the  necessary  ceremo 
nies,  and  with  a  perfect  faith  in  its  efficacy,  and  I  can  confidently  recommend 
it  to  my  fellow-citizens  as  an  infallible  means  of  discovering  the  various  places 
on  the  Island  of  the  Manhattoes  where  treasure  hath  been  buried  in  the 
olden  time." 

D.  K." 


WOLFERT  WEBBER.  443 


tor  had  thumbed  over  all  his  books  of  knowledge  for  the  occa 
sion  ;  and  the  black  fisherman  was  engaged  to  take  them  in  his 
skiff  to  the  scene  of  enterprise  ;  to  work  with  spade  and  pickaxe 
in  unearthing  the  treasure  ;  and  to  freight  his  bark  with  the 
weighty  spoils  they  were  certain  of  finding. 

At  length  the  appointed  night  arrived  for  this  perilous  under 
taking.  Before  Wolfert  left  his  home  he  counselled  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  go  to  bed,  and  feel  no  alarm  if  he  should  not  return 
during  the  night.  Like  reasonable  women,  on  being  told  not  to 
feel  alarm  they  fell  immediately  into  a  panic.  They  saw  at  once 
by  his  manner  that  something  unusual  was  in  agitation  ;  all  their 
fears  about  the  unsettled  state  of  his  mind  were  revived  with  ten 
fold  force  :  they  hung  about  him,  entreating  him  not  to  expose 
himself  to  the  night  air,  but  all  in  vain.  When  once  Wolfert 
was  mounted  on  his  hobby,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  him  out 
of  the  saddle.  It  was  a  clear  starlight  night,  when  he  issued  out 
of  the  portal  of  the  Webber  palace.  He  wore  a  large  flapped 
hat  tied  under  the  chin  with  a  handkerchief  of  his  daughter's,  to 
secure  him  from  the  night  damp,  while  Dame  Webber  threw 
her  long  red  cloak  about  his  shoulders,  and  fastened  it  round 
his  neck. 

The  doctor  had  been  no  less  carefully  armed  and  accoutred 
by  his  housekeeper,  the  vigilant  Frau  Ilsy  ;  and  sallied  forth  in 
his  camlet  robe  by  way  of  surcoat ;  his  black  velvet  cap  under 
his  cocked  hat,  a  thick  clasped  book  under  his  arm,  a  basket  of 
drugs  and  dried  herbs  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  the  miracu 
lous  rod  of  divination. 

The  great  church  clock  struck  ten  as  Wolfert  and  the  doctor 
passed  by  the  churchyard,  and  the  watchman  bawled  in  hoarse 
voice  a  long  and  doleful  "  all's  well !"  A  deep  sleep  had  already 


444  TALES   OF  A   TRAVELLER. 


fallen  upon  this  primitive  little  burgh:  nothing  disturbed  this 
awful  silence,  excepting  now  and  then  the  bark  of  some  profligate 
night-walking  dog,  or  the  serenade  of  some  romantic  cat.  It  is 
true,  Wolfert  fancied  more  than  once  that  he  heard  the  sound  of 
a  stealthy  footfall  at  a  distance  behind  them  ;  but  it  might  have 
been  merely  the  echo  of  their  own  steps  along  the  quiet  streets. 
He  thought  also  at  one  time  that  he  saw  a  tall  figure  skulking 
after  them — stopping  when  they  stopped,  and  moving  on  as  they 
proceeded ;  but  the  dim  and  uncertain  lamp-light  threw  such 
vague  gleams  and  shadows,  that  this  might  all  have  been  mere 
fancy. 

They  found  the  old  fisherman  waiting  for  them,  smoking  his 
pipe  in  the  stern  of  his  skiff,  which  was  moored  just  in  front  of 
his  little  cabin.  A  pickaxe  and  spade  were  lying  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  with  a  dark  lantern,  and  a  stone  bottle  of  good  Dutch 
courage,  in  which  honest  Sam  no  doubt  put  even  more  faith  than 
Dr.  Knipperhausen  in  his  drugs. 

Thus  then  did  these  three  worthies  embark  in  their  cockle 
shell  of  a  skiff  upon  this  nocturnal  expedition,  with  a  wisdom  and 
valor  equalled  only  by  the  three  wise  men  of  Gotham,  who  ad 
ventured  to  sea  in  a  bowl.  The  tide  was  rising  and  running 
rapidly  up  the  Sound.  The  current  bore  them  along,  almost 
without  the  aid  of  an  oar.  The  profile  of  the  town  lay  all  in 
shadow.  Here  and  there  a  light  feebly  glimmered  from  some 
sick  chamber,  or  from  the  cabin  window  of  some  vessel  at  anchor 
in  the  stream.  Not  a  cloud  obscured  the  deep  starry  firmament, 
the  lights  of  which  wavered  on  the  surface  of  the  placid  river ; 
and  a  shooting  meteor,  streaking  its  pale  course  in  the  very  direc 
tion  they  were  taking,  was  interpreted  by  the  doctor  into  a  most 
propitious  omen. 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  445 


In  a  little  while  they  glided  by  the  point  of  Corlaer's  Hook 
with  the  rural  inn  which  had  been  the  scene  of  such  night  adven 
tures.  The  family  had  retired  to  rest,  and  the  house  was  dark 
and  still.  Wolfert  felt  a  chill  pass  over  him  as  they  passed  the 
point  where  the  buccaneer  had  disappeared.  He  pointed  it  out 
to  Dr.  Knipperhausen.  While  regarding  it,  they  thought  they 
saw  a  boat  actually  lurking  at  the  very  place  ;  but  the  shore  cast 
such  a  shadow  over  the  border  of  the  water  that  they  could  dis 
cern  nothing  distinctly.  They  had  not  proceeded  far  when  they 
heard  the  low  sounds  of  distant  oars,  as  if  cautiously  pulled. 
Sam  plied  his  oars  with  redoubled  vigor,  and  knowing  all  the  ed 
dies  and  currents  of  the  stream,  soon  left  their  followers,  if  such 
they  were,  far  astern.  In  a  little  while  they  stretched  across 
Turtle  bay  and  Kip's  bay,  then  shrouded  themselves  in  the  deep 
shadows  of  the  Manhattan  shore,  and  glided  swiftly  along,  secure 
from  observation.  At  length  the  negro  shot  his  skiff  into  a  little 
cove,  darkly  embowered  by  trees,  and  made  it  fast  to  the  well- 
known  iron  ring.  They  now  landed,  and  lighting  the  lantern, 
gathered  their  various  implements  and  proceeded  slowly  through 
the  bushes.  Every  sound  startled  them,  even  that  of  their  own 
footsteps  among  the  dry  leaves;  and  the  hooting  of  a  screech- 
owl,  from  the  shattered  chimney  of  the  neighboring  ruin,  made 
their  blood  run  cold. 

In  spite  of  all  Wolfert's  caution  in  taking  note  of  the  land 
marks,  it  was  some  time  before  they  could  find  the  open  place 
among  the  trees,  where  the  treasure  was  supposed  to  be  buried. 
At  length  they  came  to  the  ledge  of  rock ;  and  on  examining  its 
surface  by  the  aid  of  the  lantern,  Wolfert  recognized  the  three 
mystic  crosses.  Their  hearts  beat  quick,  for  the  momentous  trial 
was  at  hand  that  was  to  determine  their  hopes. 


446  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


The  lantern  was  now  held  by  Wolfert  Webber,  while  the 
doctor  produced  the  divining  rod.  It  was  a  forked  twig,  one  end 
of  which  was  grasped  firmly  in  each  hand,  while  the  centre, 
forming  the  stem,  pointed  perpendicularly  upwards.  The  doctor 
moved  this  wand  about,  within  a  certain  distance  of  the  earth, 
from  place  to  place,  but  for  some  time  without  any  effect,  while 
Wolfert  kept  the  light  of  the  lantern  turned  full  upon  it,  and 
watched  it  with  the  most  breathless  interest.  At  length  the  rod 
began  slowly  to  turn.  The  doctor  grasped  it  with  greater  ear 
nestness,  his  hands  trembling  with  the  agitation  of  his  mind. 
The  wand  continued  to  turn  gradually,  until  at  length  the  stem 
had  reversed  its  position,  and  pointed  perpendicularly  downward, 
and  remained  pointing  to  one  spot  as  fixedly  as  the  needle  to  the 
pole. 

"  This  is  the  spot !"  said  the  doctor,  in  an  almost  inaudible 
tone. 

Wolfert's  heart  was  in  his  throat. 

"  Shall  I  dig  ?"  said  the  negro,  grasping  the  spade. 

"  Pots  tausends,  no  !"  replied  the  little  doctor,  hastily.  He 
now  ordered  his  companions  to  keep  close  by  him,  and  to  main 
tain  the  most  inflexible  silence.  That  certain  precautions  must 
be  taken  and  ceremonies  used  to  prevent  the  evil  spirits  which 
kept  about  buried  treasure  from  doing  them  any  harm.  He  then 
drew  a  circle  about  the  place,  enough  to  include  the  whole  party. 
He  next  gathered  dry  twigs  and  leaves  and  made  a  fire,  upon 
which  he  threw  certain  drugs  and  dried  herbs  which  he  had 
brought  in  his  basket.  A  thick  smoke  rose,  diffusing  a  potent 
odor,  savoring  marvellously  of  brimstone  and  asafoetida,  which, 
however  grateful  it  might  be  to  the  olfactory  nerves  of  spirits, 
nearly  strangled  poor  Wolfert,  and  produced  a  fit  of  coughing  and 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  447 


wheezing  that  made  the  whole  grove  resound.  Doctor  Knipper- 
hausen  then  unclasped  the  volume  which  he  had  brought  under 
his  arm,  which  was  printed  in  red  and  black  characters  in  Ger 
man  text.  While  Wolfert  held  the  lantern,  the  doctor,  by  the 
aid  of  his  spectacles,  read  off  several  forms  of  conjuration  in  Latin 
and  German.  He  then  ordered  Sam  to  seize  the  pickaxe  and 
proceed  to  work.  The  close-bound  soil  gave  obstinate  signs 
of  not  having  been  disturbed  for  many  a  year.  After  having 
picked  his  way  through  the  surface,  Sam  came  to  a  bed  of  sand 
and  gravel,  which  he  threw  briskly  to  right  and  left  with  the 
spade. 

"  Hark  !"  said  Wolfert,  who  fancied  he  heard  a  trampling 
among  the  dry  leaves,  and  a  rustling  through  the  bushes.  Sam 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  they  listened.  No  footstep  was  near. 
The  bat  flitted  by  them  in  silence ;  a  bird,  roused  from  its  roost 
by  the  light  which  glared  up  among  the  trees,  flew  circling  about 
the  flame.  In  the  profound  stillness  of  the  woodland,  they  could 
distinguish  the  current  rippling  along  the  rocky  shore,  and  the 
distant  murmuring  and  roaring  of  Hell-gate. 

The  negro  continued  his  labors,  and  had  already  digged  a 
considerable  hole.  The  doctor  stood  on  the  edge,  reading  for 
mulae  every  now  and  then  from  his  black-letter  volume,  or  throw 
ing  more  drugs  and  herbs  upon  the  fire ;  while  Wolfert  bent  anx 
iously  over  the  pit,  watching  every  stroke  of  the  spade.  Any 
one  witnessing  the  scene  thus  lighted  up  by  fire,  lantern,  and  the 
reflection  of  Wolfert's  red  mantle,  might  have  mistaken  the  little 
doctor  for  some  foul  magician,  busied  in  his  incantations,  and  the 
grizzly-headed  negro  for  some  swart  goblin,  obedient  to  his 
commands. 

At  length  the  spade  of  the  fisherman  struck  upon  something 


448  TALES   OF   A   TRAVELLER. 


that  sounded  hollow.  The  sound  vibrated  to  Wblfert's  heart. 
He  struck  his  spade  again. — 

"  Tis  a  chest,"  said  Sam. 

"  Full  of  gold,  I'll  warrant  it !"  cried  Wolfert,  clasping  his 
hands  with  rapture. 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  the  words  when  a  sound  from  above 
caught  his  ear.  He  cast  up  his  eyes,  and  lo !  by  the  expiring 
light  of  the  fire  he  beheld,  just  over  the  disk  of  the  rock,  what 
appeared  to  be  the  grim  visage  of  the  drowned  buccaneer,  grin 
ning  hideously  down  upon  him. 

Wolfert  gave  a  loud  cry,  and  let  fall  the  lantern.  His  panic 
communicated  itself  to  his  companions.  The  negro  leaped  out  of 
the  hole ;  the  doctor  dropped  his  book  and  basket  and  began  to 
pray  in  German.  All  Avas  horror  and  confusion.  The  fire  was 
scattered  about,  the  lantern  extinguished.  In  their  hurry-scurry 
they  ran  against  and  confounded  one  another.  They  fancied  a 
legion  of  hobgoblins  let  loose  upon  them,  and  that  they  saw,  by 
the  fitful  gleams  of  the  scattered  embers,  strange  figures,  in  red 
caps,  gibbering  and  ramping  around  them.  The  doctor  ran  one 
way,  the  negro  another,  and  Wolfert  made  for  the  water  side. 
As  he  plunged  struggling  onwards  through  brush  and  brake,  he 
heard  the  tread  of  some  one  in  pursuit.  He  scrambled  frantically 
forward.  The  footsteps  gained  upon  him.  He  felt  himself 
grasped  by  his  cloak,  when  suddenly  his  pursuer  was  attacked  in 
turn  :  a  fierce  fight  and  struggle  ensued — a  pistol  was  discharged 
that  lit  up  rock  and  bush  for  a  second,  and  showed  two  figures 
grappling  together — all  was  then  darker  than  ever.  The  contest 
continued — the  combatants  clinched  each  other,  and  panted,  and 
groaned,  and  rolled  among  the  rocks.  There  was  snarling  and 
growling  as  of  a  cur,  mingled  with  curses,  in  which  Wolfert  fan- 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  449 


cied  he  could  recognize  the  voice  of  the  buccaneer.  He  would 
fain  have  fled,  but  he  was  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  and  could 
go  no  farther. 

Again  the  parties  were  on  their  feet ;  again  there  was  a  tug 
ging  and  struggling,  as  if  strength  alone  could  decide  the  combat, 
until  one  was  precipitated  from  the  brow  of  the  cliff,  and  sent 
headlong  into  the  deep  stream  that  whirled  below.  Wolfert  heard 
the  plunge,  and  a  kind  of  strangling,  bubbling  murmur,  but  the 
darkness  of  the  night  hid  every  thing  from  him,  and  the  swiftness 
of  the  current  swept  every  thing  instantly  out  of  hearing.  One 
of  the  combatants  was  disposed  of,  but  whether  friend  or  foe, 
Wolfert  could  not  tell,  nor  whether  they  might  not  both  be  foes. 
He  heard  the  survivor  approach,  and  his  terror  revived.  He 
saw,  where  the  profile  of  the  rocks  rose  against  the  horizon,  a 
human  form  advancing.  He  could  not  be  mistaken :  it  must  be 
the  buccaneer.  Whither  should  he  fly ! — a  precipice  was  on  one 
side — a  murderer  on  the  other.  The  enemy  approached — he 
was  close  at  hand.  Wolfert  attempted  to  let  himself  down  the 
face  of  the  cliff.  His  cloak  caught  in  a  thorn  that  grew  on  the 
edge.  He  was  jerked  from  off  his  feet,  and  held  dangling  in  the 
air,  half-choked  by  the  string  with  which  his  careful  wife  had 
fastened  the  garment  round  his  neck.  Wolfert  thought  his  last 
moment  was  arrived ;  already  had  he  committed  his  soul  to  St. 
Nicholas,  when  the  string  broke,  and  he  tumbled  down  the  bank, 
bumping  from  rock  to  rock,  and  bush  to  bush,  and  leaving  the  red 
cloak  fluttering  like  a  bloody  banner  in  the  air. 

It  was  a  long  while  before  Wolfert  came  to  himself.  When 
he  opened  his  eyes,  the  ruddy  streaks  of  morning  were  already 
shooting  up  the  sky.  He  found  himself  grievously  battered,  and 
lying  in  the  bottom  of  a  boat.  He  attemped  to  sit  up,  but  was 


450  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


too  sore  and  stiff  to  move.  A  voice  requested  him  in  friendly 
accents  to  lie  still.  He  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  speaker :  it 
\vas  Dirk  Waldron.  He  had  dogged  the  party,  at  the  earnest 
request  of  Dame  Webber  and  her  daughter,  who  with  the  lauda 
ble  curiosity  of  their  sex,  had  pried  into  the  secret  consultations 
of  Wolfert  and  the  doctor.  Dirk  had  been  completely  distanced 
in  following  the  light  skiff  of  the  fisherman,  and  had  just  come  in 
time  to  rescue  the  poor  money-digger  from  his  pursuer. 

Thus  ended  this  perilous  enterprise.  The  doctor  and  Black 
Sam  severally  found  their  way  back  to  the  Manhattoes,  each 
having  some  dreadful  tale  of  peril  to  relate.  As  to  poor  Wolfert, 
instead  of  returning  in  triumph  laden  with  bags  of  gold,  he  was 
borne  home  on  a  shutter,  followed  by  a  rabble-rout  of  curious 
urchins.  His  wife  and  daughter  saw  the  dismal  pageant  from  a 
distance,  and  alarmed  the  neighborhood  with  their  cries :  they 
thought  the  poor  man  had  suddenly  settled  the  great  debt  of 
nature  in  one  of  his  wayward  moods.  Finding  him,  however, 
still  living,  they  had  him  speedily  to  bed,  and  a  jury  of  old 
matrons  of  the  neighborhood  assembled,  to  determine  how  he 
should  be  doctored.  The  whole  town  was  in  a  buzz  with  the 
story  of  the  money-diggers.  Many  repaired  to  the  scene  of  the 
previous  night's  adventures  :  but  though  they  found  the  very 
place  of  the  digging,  they  discovered  nothing  that  compensated 
them  for  their  trouble.  Some  say  they  found  the  fragments  of 
an  oaken  chest,  and  an  iron  pot-lid,  which  savored  strongly  of 
hidden  money ;  and  that  in  the  old  family  vault  there  were  traces 
of  bales  and  boxes,  but  this  is  all  very  dubious. 

In  fact,  the  secret  of  all  this  story  has  never  to  this  day  been 
discovered :  whether  any  treasure  were  ever  actually  buried  at 
that  place ;  whether,  if  so,  it  were  carried  off  at  night  by  those 


WOLFERT  WEBBER.  451 


who  had  buried  it ;  or  whether  it  still  remains  there  under  the 
guardianship  of  gnomes  and  spirits  until  it  shall  be  properly 
sought  for,  is  all  matter  of  conjecture.  For  my  part  I  incline  to 
the  latter  opinion  ;  and  make  no  doubt  that  great  sums  lie  buried, 
both  there  and  in  other  parts  of  this  island  and  its  neighborhood, 
ever  since  the  times  of  the  buccaneers  and  the  Dutch  colonists ; 
and  I  would  earnestly  recommend  the  search  after  them  to  such 
of  my  fellow-citizens  as  are  not  engaged  in  any  other  specula 
tions. 

There  were  many  conjectures  formed,  also,  as  to  who  and 
what  was  the  strange  man  of  the  seas  who  had  domineered  over 
the  little  fraternity  at  Corlaer's  Hook  for  a  time ;  disappeared  so 
strangely,  and  reappeared  so  fearfully.  Some  supposed  him  a 
smuggler  stationed  at  that  place  to  assist  his  comrades  in  landing 
their  goods  among  the  rocky  coves  of  the  island.  Others  that  he 
was  one  of  the  ancient  comrades  of  Kidd  or  Bradish,  returned 
to  convey  away  treasures  formerly  hidden  in  the  vicinity.  The 
only  circumstance  that  throws  any  thing  like  a  vague  light  on 
this  mysterious  matter,  is  a  report  which  prevailed  of  a  strange 
foreign-built  shallop,  with  much  the  look  of  a  picaroon,  having 
been  seen  hovering  about  the  Sound  for  several  days  without 
landing  or  reporting  herself,  though  boats  were  seen  going  to  and 
from  her  at  night :  and  that  she  was  seen  standing  out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  harbor,  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn  after  the  catastro 
phe  of  the  money-diggers. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  another  report,  also,  which  I  con 
fess  is  rather  apocryphal,  of  the  buccaneer,  who  was  supposed  to 
have  been  drowned,  being  seen  before  daybreak,  with  a  lantern 
in  his  hand,  seated  astride  of  his  great  sea-chest,  and  sailing 


452  TALES  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


through  Hell-gate,  which  just  then  began  to  roar  and  bellow  with 
redoubled  fury. 

While  all  the  gossip  world  was  thus  filled  with  talk  and 
rumor,  poor  Wolfert  lay  sick  and  sorrowful  in  his  bed,  bruised  in 
body  and  sorely  beaten  down  in  mind.  His  wife  and  daughter 
did  all  they  could  to  bind  up  his  wounds,  both  corporal  and  spirit 
ual.  The  good  old  dame  never  stirred  from  his  bedside,  where 
she  sat  knitting  from  morning  till  night;  while  his  daughter 
busied  herself  about  him  with  the  fondest  care.  Nor  did  they 
lack  assistance  from  abroad.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  deser 
tion  of  friends  in  distress,  they  had  no  complaint  of  the  kind  to 
make.  Not  an  old  wife  of  the  neighborhood  but  abandoned  her 
work  to  crowd  to  the  mansion  of  Wolfert  Webber,  inquire  after 
his  health,  and  the  particulars  of  his  story.  Not  one  came  more 
over  without  her  little  pipkin  of  pennyroyal,  sage,  balm,  or  other 
herb  tea,  delighted  at  an  opportunity  of  signalizing  her  kindness 
and  her  doctorship.  What  drenchings  did  not  the  poor  Wol 
fert  undergo,  and  all  in  vain  !  It  was  a  moving  sight  to  behold 
him  wasting  away  day  by  day  ;  growing  thinner  and  thinner,  and 
ghastlier  and  ghastlier,  and  staring  with  rueful  visage  from  under 
an  old  patchwork  counterpane,  upon  the  jury  of  matrons  kindly 
assembled  to  sigh  and  groan  and  look  unhappy  around  him. 

Dirk  Waldron  was  the  only  being  that  seemed  to  shed  a  ray 
of  sunshine  into  this  house  of  mourning.  He  came  in  with 
cheery  look  and  manly  spirit,  arid  tried  to  reanimate  the  expiring 
heart  of  the  poor  money-digger,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Wolfert 
was  completely  done  over.  If  any  thing  was  wanting  to  com 
plete  his  despair,  it  was  a  notice  served  upon  him  in  the  midst  of 
his  distress,  that  the  corporation  were  about  to  run  a  new  street 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  453 


through  the  very  centre  of  his  cabbage-garden.  He  now  saw 
nothing  before  him  but  poverty  and  ruin ;  his  last  reliance,  the 
garden  of  his  forefathers,  was  to  be  laid  waste,  and  what  then 
was  to  become  of  his  poor  wife  and  child  ? 

His  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  they  followed  the  dutiful  Amy 
oat  of  the  room  one  morning.  Dirk  Waldron  was  seated  beside 
him ;  Wolfert  grasped  his  hand,  pointed  after  his  daughter,  and 
for  the  first  time  since  his  illness,  broke  the  silence  he  had  main 
tained. 

"  I  am  going  !"  said  he,  shaking  his  head  feebly,  "  and  when 
I  am  gone — my  poor  daughter " 

"  Leave  her  to  me,  father !"  said  Dirk,  manfully — "  I'll  take 
care  of  her !" 

Wolfert  looked  up  in  the  face  of  the  cheery,  strapping  young 
ster,  and  saw  there  was  none  better  able  to  take  care  of  a  woman. 

"  Enough,"  said  he — "  she  is  yours  ! — and  now  fetch  me  a 
lawyer — let  me  make  my  will  and  die." 

The  lawyer  was  brought — a  dapper,  bustling,  round-headed 
little  man,  Roorback  (or  Rollebuck  as  it  was  pronounced)  by 
name.  At  the  sight  of  him  the  women  broke  into  loud  lamenta 
tions,  for  they  looked  upon  the  signing  of  a  will  as  the  signing  of 
a  death-warrant.  Wolfert  made  a  feeble  motion  for  them  to  be 
silent.  Poor  Amy  buried  her  face  and  her  grief  in  the  bed-cur 
tain.  Dame  Webber  resumed  her  knitting  to  hide  her  distress, 
which  betrayed  itself  however  in  a  pellucid  tear,  which  trickled 
silently  down,  and  hung  at  the  end  of  her  peaked  nose  ;  while 
the  cat,  the  only  unconcerned  member  of  the  family,  played  with 
the  gotd  dame's  ball  of  worsted,  as  it  rolled  about  the  floor. 

Wolfert  lay  on  his  back,  his  night-cap  drawn  over  his  fore 
head  ;  his  eyes  closed  ;  his  whole  visage  the  picture  of  death. 


454  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


He  begged  the  lawyer  to  be  brief,  for  he  felt  his  end  approaching, 
and  that  he  had  no  time  to  lose.  The  lawyer  nibbed  his  pen, 
spread  out  his  paper,  and  prepared  to  write. 

"  I  give  and  bequeath,"  said  Wolfert,  faintly,  "  my  small 
farm " 

"  What — all !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer. 

Wolfert  half  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  up6n  the  lawyer. 

«  Yes — all,"  said  he. 

"  What !  all  that  great  patch  of  land  with  cabbages  and  sun 
flowers,  which  the  corporation  is  just  going  to  run  a  main  street 
through  ?" 

"  The  same,"  said  Wolfert,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  sinking 
back  upon  his  pillow. 

"  I  wish  him  joy  that  inherits  it !"  said  the  little  lawyer,  chuck 
ling  and  rubbing  his  hands  involuntarily. 

What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Wolfert,  again  opening  his  eyes. 

"  That  he'll  be  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  place !"  cried 
little  Eollebuck. 

The  expiring  Wolfert  seemed  to  step  back  from  the  threshold 
of  existence  :  his  eyes  again  lighted  up ;  he  raised  himself  in  his 
bed,  shoved  back  his  worsted  red  nightcap,  and  stared  broadly  at 
the  lawyer. 

"  You  don't  say  so  !"  exclaimed  he. 

"  Faith,  but  I  do !"  rejoined  the  other.  "  Why,  when  that 
great  field  and  that  huge  meadow  come  to  be  laid  out  in  streets, 
and  cut  up  into  snug  building  lots — why,  whoever  owns  it  need 
not  pull  off  his  hat  to  the  patroon  !" 

"  Say  you  so  ?"  cried  Wolfert,  half  thrusting  one  leg*  out  of 
bed,  "  why,  then  I  think  I'll  not  make  my  will  yet !" 

To  the  surprise  of  every  body  the  dying  man  actually  reco- 


WOLFERT   WEBBER.  455 


vered.  The  vital  spark,  which  had  glimmered  faintly  in  the 
socket,  received  fresh  fuel  from  the  oil  of  gladness,  which  the 
little  lawyer  poured  into  his  soul.  It  once  more  burnt  up  into 
a  flame. 

Give  physic  to  the  heart,  ye  who  would  revive  the  body  of  a 
spirit-broken  man  !  In  a  few  days  Wolfert  left  his  room  ;  in  a 
few  days  more  his  table  was  covered  with  deeds,  plans  of  streets, 
and  building  lots.  Little  Rollebuck  was  constantly  with  him, 
his  right-hand  man  and  adviser ;  and  instead  of  making  his  will, 
assisted  in  the  more  agreeable  task  of  making  his  fortune.  In 
fact  Wolfert  Webber  was  one  of  those  worthy  Dutch  burghers  of 
the  Manhattoes  whose  fortunes  have  been  made,  in  a  manner,  in 
spite  of  themselves  ;  who  have  tenaciously  held  on  to  their  he 
reditary  acres,  raising  turnips  and  cabbages  about  the  skirts  of 
the  city,  hardly  able  to  make  both  ends  meet,  until  the  corpora 
tion  has  cruelly  driven  streets  through  their  abodes,  and  they  have 
suddenly  awakened  out  of  their  lethargy,  and,  to  their  astonish 
ment,  found  themselves  rich  men. 

Before  many  months  had  elapsed,  a  great  bustling  street 
passed  through  the  very  centre  of  the  Webber  garden,  just  where 
Wolfert  had  dreamed  of  finding  a  treasure.  His  golden  dream 
was  accomplished ;  he  did  indeed  find  an  unlooked-for  source  of 
wealth ;  for,  when  his  paternal  lands  were  distributed  into  build 
ing  lots,  and  rented  out  to  safe  tenants,  instead  of  producing  a 
paltry  crop  of  cabbages,  they  returned  him  an  abundant  crop  of 
rents ;  insomuch  that  on  quarter-day,  it  was  a  goodly  sight  to 
see  his  tenants  knocking  at  his  door,  from  morning  till  night,  each 
with  a  little  round-bellied  bag  of  money,  a  golden  produce  of  the 
soil. 

The  ancient  mansion  of  his  forefathers  was  still  kept  up ;  but 


456  TALES   OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


instead  of  being  a  little  yellow-fronted  Dutch  house  in  a  garden, 
it  now  stood  boldly  in  the  midst  of  a  street,  the  grand  house  of 
the  neighborhood ;  for  Wolfert  enlarged  it  with  a  wing  on  each 
side,  and  a  cupola  or  tea-room  on  top,  where  he  might  climb  up 
and  smoke  his  pipe  in  hot  weather  ;  and  in  the  course  of  time  the 
whole  mansion  was  overrun  by  the  chubby-faced  progeny  of  Amy 
Webber  and  Dirk  Waldron. 

As  "Wolfert  waxed  old,  and  rich,  and  corpulent,  he  also  set  up 
a  great  gingerbread-colored  carriage,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  black 
Flanders  mares,  with  tails  that  swept  the  ground ;  and  to  com 
memorate  the  origin  of  his  greatness,  he  had  for  his  crest,  a  full 
blown  cabbage  painted  on  the  panels,  with  the  pithy  motto  £|U0g 
3&0,pf,  that  is  to  say,  ALL  HEAD  ;  meaning  thereby  that  he  had 
risen  by  sheer  head-work. 

To  fill  the  measure  of  his  greatness,  in  the  fulness  of  time 
the  renowned  Ramm  Rapelye  slept  with  his  fathers,  and  Wolfert 
Webber  succeeded  to  the  leather-bottomed  arm-chair,  in  the  inn 
parlor  at  Corlaer's  Hook  ;  where  he  long  reigned  greatly  honored 
and  respected,  insomuch  that  he  was  never  known  to  tell  a  story 
without  its  being  believed,  nor  to  utter  a  joke  without  its  being 
laughed  at. 


THE    END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORB 

LOAN  DEPT, 


REC.  CIR.   H«R  3  0  1S79 


BEG.  CIR.  

General  Library 
LD2lA-40m-8,'71  University  of  California 

(P6572slO)476-A-32  Berkeley 


'      ' 
LD  2lA-50m-ll,'62 


General  Library 
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